


Doing it Properly

by BeginToFray



Series: (Issues) We've got the kind of love it takes to solve them. [6]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeginToFray/pseuds/BeginToFray
Summary: Another continuation in the series. Still just Eve and Villanelle figuring out how to live their lives together, this time with a few other familiar faces chucked in the mix.





	1. Listen if you like

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am again, pretending there's going to be a plot when there's not really. This chapter is for Janie who commented on the last story and asked so politely for more. Janie, you can breathe again now.

The bathroom mirror was fogged up from the steam emanating from the heat of the bathwater. Eve had piled her hair as best she could into bun on the top of her head, where strands and waves of it still managed to burst free from the grips of the hair tie. She reclined against the smooth end of the bath and tried to relax as she felt Villanelle’s extortionately expensive and beautifully aromatic bath oils soften her skin and soothe her muscles. Resting on the side of the bath was a glass of red wine and Eve’s phone – probably not an advisable place for either to be placed, but both needed to be within immediate reach. In Eve’s hand was a well-thumbed copy of Women Who Kill. She had read it before, of course, but reading it now was different. Eve found herself chuckling at some of the mistaken theories that the author delivered with such authority. Eve now had a far superior understanding of Women Who Kill; in fact, she had an intimate understanding.

Tonight, however, the book was not amusing Eve. Perhaps because she was struggling to read it without the glasses that had been discarded since they kept slipping down her steam-moistened skin, or perhaps because tonight Eve was restless.

She wasn’t normally a bath person at all. Normally Eve was a shower person. A staunch follower of a perfunctory shower routine consisting of thorough body cleansing, hair washing, leg-shaving (something she had almost never done when Niko was around) and then getting out and dried, all under 20 minutes. Eve had never been someone who could see the point in ruminating in the bathtub for an evening. But she’d had a shower the previous night and then… nothing. Eve was sure her evenings used to be filled with something before Villanelle, but now she struggled to remember what.

Villanelle was away. She was in Brussels for work. She had left two days earlier and Eve had found herself a bit lost. Eve’s mind slipped back into old grooves that had been well worn before Russia, before Paris. She constantly wondered what Villanelle was doing, what she was seeing, what she was eating, if she was thinking of Eve too. She wondered whose life was about to meet its end. She wondered if she would be able to tell just from Villanelle’s voice whether the job was done or not. After all, Villanelle had promised to call each evening, and she hadn’t broken her word yet. Eve knew that she wouldn’t.

To begin with, Eve had scolded herself for being so needy. This wasn’t her at all. She could function without a partner. Christ, she had functioned without a partner through 15 years of marriage. Sure, Niko had been around, but really, when Eve looked back on their time together, they had led mostly separate lives. They congregated on the sofa in the evening to watch a far-fetched crime drama before bed, but Eve could have done that alone.

More recently, her evenings had been full of gourmet food and engaging conversations, good movies (Eve was finally developing a taste for cinema, something which had always alluded her in the past) and great sex, a fair amount of sex. But now, with Villanelle away, Eve was at a loss. She had cooked for herself, partly so she could tell Villanelle that she had done so when the younger woman called later to check in, and partly to kill some time. The food hadn’t been fantastic, but it was better than the post-Niko ready meal era at least.

So now Eve was in the bath. Villanelle adored baths. She would luxuriate in the bath frequently, sometimes attempting – sometimes successfully – to persuade Eve to join her. Or else she would appear in the bedroom afterwards all warm and sleepy and satisfied, her skin tasting of almond or vanilla or rose and her honey coloured hair darkened and damp at the ends. From Villanelle, Eve was learning to appreciate baths. But tonight, the bath was reminding Eve too much of what she was missing. The bathroom smelt like Villanelle and Eve wished she were sharing the bath with the woman she had found herself irrevocably in love with.

She remembered the first time they had shared this bath. Both fully dressed, Villanelle having just broken into Eve’s house. Eve was terrified, certain she was about to die and Villanelle… Villanelle wanted to have dinner. Now Eve could laugh about that, as long as she didn’t allow her mind to follow that black and white dress she had been wearing then to Frank’s body, spread-eagled and castrated on the bed in a so-called safe house. Frank had been a dick swab though, Eve reasoned. But then that particular insult took her mind down another path, to another dead colleague and Eve stopped herself in her tracks.

There had been other moments in this bathroom too. The first time Eve had given herself over completely to Villanelle had been here. When she had allowed herself to be entirely vulnerable, when she had put her faith in the other woman and trusted her not to harm her, not to be playing some kind of twisted trick on her, not to ram a concealed weapon up under her ribs or sink a bullet into her blinkered heart. That moment had been in this very bath.

God, Eve shouldn’t think about that moment too much either, or what followed it, unless she was going to give up on reading her book altogether and submerge her hand beneath the water. It had been a distinct turning point in her life, that moment in the bath. Perhaps not the most important moment, as there is more to a relationship than sex, but that first time had reassured Eve. It had told her that this thing between them, this frisson of fascination, was more than that. They weren’t just fixated on each other. Villanelle wasn’t just Eve’s very own pet psychopath appeared from the pages of her criminal psychology books. And Eve wasn’t just a new Anna to Villanelle. There was something genuine between them and whilst they may not always communicate very well, there was a language they shared beyond English and that night they began to become fluent in it.

Eve gave up on her book; she couldn’t focus on it, literally couldn’t focus without her glasses, and mentally couldn’t focus with a head full of the woman whose absence was almost painful. It was pitiful really. Eve should be able to handle this. She should even relish the time alone; do the things she couldn’t do when Villanelle was around. But there was nothing she couldn’t do when Villanelle was around, except maybe invite Elena over for wine and chats. Although Eve knew without a doubt that if Eve even hinted that she wanted to spend an evening in with her friend then Villanelle would make herself scarce. But Eve didn’t want that. Not really. She just wanted Villanelle. Eve felt like she had as a teenager with her first boyfriend, which was ridiculous given her age and experience. Ridiculous, but true, and utterly unchangeable.

Eve dropped her book over the edge of the bath and listened to it hit the tiled floor with a slap. She must remember not to drip water on it when she got out of the bath. She took a swig from her wine glass and then lay back, closing her eyes and willing her body to relax, willing her mind to think of something other than golden green eyes and full breasts, honey-coloured hair that smelt like jasmine flowers and soft lips, hips that were perfect for holding and a collarbone she had been known to gently bite and—

An abrasive buzzing noise sounded somewhere near Eve’s head and she shot upright, sloshing water over the side of the bathtub and probably soaking her book.

It was her phone. Of course. She had been waiting for it to ring. Well, she had been willing herself not obsess over when it would ring, and failing dismally.

“Hello?” Eve asked into the phone, sounding more anxious than necessary after the shock of its sudden noise.

“Eve?” Villanelle sounded alarmed, “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Sorry darling, the phone startled me.”

“The phone startled you? You live with a contract killer, but you are scared of your phone?”

“No. I mean, I was just… I was… I guess I was daydreaming or something and the sound made me jump.”

“You were daydreaming?”

“Yes?”

“About me?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“Yes, Oksana. I was daydreaming about you and then the phone rang. Can we move on?”

“Was it a good daydream? Was I doing something naughty?”

Eve could hear the teasing tone in Villanelle’s voice and sighed.

“How was your day, darling? Did you… Get your work done?” Eve asked, steering the conversation away from its previous course.

“I did. It was fine. The boss must be pleased. I received a large bonus.”

“Oh. That’s… good. Well done.” Eve was hesitant, but trying as always to be supportive of her partner. Villanelle simply hummed in response.

“Have you eaten?” Villanelle enquired, changing the subject.

“I have. I cooked.”

“Is the kitchen burned down?”

“Hilarious.” Eve muttered then leaned up to reach her wine glass and took a sip before laying back against the bath, the water rippling around her.

“Eve?” Villanelle asked slowly her voice low.

“What?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m uh… I’m having a bath.”

Villanelle let out a frustrated groan.

“I knew it! I heard the water. That is not fair.”

“Well I was bored! Don’t worry, I haven’t used all your bath oil.” Eve assured.

“That is not the problem!” Villanelle exclaimed, “You are at home, all naked and wet and smelling amazing and I am in this shitty hotel in shitty Brussels and I want to be where you are so I can fuck you.”

Eve laughed quietly.

“You’re right. It is unfair.” Eve agreed smiling, then she did her best to mimic Villanelle’s accent before speaking again, “Sorry baby.”

Those two words were pretty much the other woman’s catchphrase and it had become a running joke between the two of them. Villanelle hooted with laughter and Eve’s smile widened.

“I don’t talk like that.”

“You do talk like that.”

“I do not. Your accent is shit.”

“You do too. But I like it.”

“Yes? You like my voice, Eve?” Villanelle’s tone had dropped again and Eve knew where this was headed, but she decided to play along for a bit.

“I love your voice.”

“You know, after I have done my… work, I often need to find a release, a way to… blow off steam. I used to go and find someone with beautiful hair, or someone like Sebastian to help, but now…” Villanelle let her words drift away suggestively. There was a pause that went on just long enough for Villanelle to furrow her brow in confusion and check her phone hadn’t disconnected before Eve spoke.

“In the spirit of working on our communication skills as a couple, I should tell you that speaking about sleeping with other people is not a great way to talk me into phone sex with you.” Eve explained in as matter-a-fact a tone as she could manage, whilst battling the image of Villanelle and Sebastian together.

“Oh really? But when I think about the Moustache Man going down on you, it makes me want to kill him, but it also makes me want to fuck you really hard so I can remind you how good I am at it.” Villanelle replied, sounding genuinely confused.

“That’s… good to know, I guess. But no, thinking of you sleeping with other people does not turn me on. It makes me jealous.” Eve was fighting her instincts here. These frank conversations went against her sensibilities, but since starting this relationship with Villanelle, every fight had stemmed from poor communication, so here she was, having a go at being open and honest.

“I think I like that it makes you jealous.” Villanelle said thoughtfully, “Because that means that you want me, yes?”

“Well, yes. I guess it does. But that’s not the point I was making.”

“No. You were saying that you won’t have phone sex with me if I talk about Sebastian.”

“Uh… yes. That is about right actually.”

“OK. I get it. I won’t talk about Sebastian. Or the women with the beautiful hair. Anyway, he was not very good at sex. He couldn’t make me come. And your hair is the most beautiful.”

“He couldn’t make you come.” Eve murmured. She wasn’t really asking for clarification on that point, just repeating what seemed like an interesting insight.

“No. Not ever. I would make him come and tell him I had as well. But then I would go home and fuck myself.”

Eve cleared her throat awkwardly. Whilst open communication and honesty were a learning curve for Eve, Villanelle sometimes seemed to have practically no filter whatsoever, nothing was off limits or inappropriate.

“Right. OK. So perhaps I have no reason to be jealous of Sebastian?” Eve was half joking and half searching for some helpful nugget from that candid anecdote. Villanelle laughed.

“Of course not. You are very skilled at making me come. I never fake it with you. Besides, Sebastian is dead.”

“Well there is that, yes.” Eve agreed.

“So we can have phone sex now?” Villanelle asked hopefully. Eve laughed.

“I don’t think so darling, the water is getting cold now and I think it would make me uncomfortable.”

“The cold water?”

“No, the phone sex.” Eve clarified, “But cold water isn’t great either.”

“It would make you uncomfortable to talk about having sex with me, but actually having sex with me is OK?” Villanelle asked sceptically.

“Basically, yes. Call me old-fashioned.” Eve said. There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Eve was nearly 100% sure that her phrasing had confused Villanelle but knew the other woman wouldn’t ask her to explain.

“OK.” Villanelle said simply after a moment or two.

“OK?” Eve repeated.

“Yes. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. So I will just fuck myself when I hang up. I can think about you in the bath. It will be nice.”

“Um… Yeah, OK. That sounds like a good plan.”

“Do you sometimes touch yourself in the bath? Because I could imagine that, it would definitely turn me on.”

“I’m sure you can come up with your own fantasies.” Eve avoided answering that particular question, mostly because she hadn’t been far off doing just that when Villanelle had rung. But Villanelle’s ego didn’t need any further stoking.

“Mmmhmm. I can.” Villanelle nodded, though Eve couldn’t see her, “And when I come home we will have proper sex, yes?”

“God. Yes.” Eve assured her quickly. “Definitely.” There was a bloom of warmth in Eve’s stomach that could have been the result of the idea of imminent sex with the gorgeous woman on the other end of the phone, or may have stemmed from hearing Villanelle refer to Eve’s house as ‘home’ in such a nonchalant manner.

Villanelle laughed.

“Are you missing me too, Eve?”

“I am really missing you, darling.”

“Good.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Soon. I have to go now, I have already started imagining you in the bath.”

“OK. Go, go!” Eve prompted her, “Good night, darling.”

“Good night, Eve. Call me if you change your mind. You can always just listen if you like.”

Eve rolled her eyes.

“See you soon, Oksana.” Eve ended the call on her phone and let out a groan.

 

In Brussels, Villanelle hung up with a satisfied sigh. She hadn’t been lying. Before, when she had carried out a kill she would almost immediately start thinking of finding someone to fuck. The kills were satisfying, sure. But a brush with death called for an affirmation of life. For Villanelle, one almost always followed the other.

But lately things had been changing. She hadn’t noticed at first. Then tonight’s kill confirmed it for her. She had never favoured guns. She liked to get up close to her victims, to watch their pupils fix as their life leaked out of them. For that she had to be more creative than a bullet from a distance. She liked knives, she liked poisons, gasses and garrotting. Her kills had a flare, almost a wit to them. It was what Eve had picked up on, Villanelle knew that. But that flare had been fading.

Tonight Villanelle had opted for a gun. She had tracked her mark, chosen her moment carefully, waiting for him to be somewhere private and alone before making her entrance and shooting him once in the forehead. Sure, she had enjoyed the look of panic when he first noticed her and spotted the gun in her hand. That had been a thrill. Other than that though, she was simply going through the motions. She stayed to check he was dead, rolling him over with her boot and almost slipping in brain matter. And then she had left, returned to her empty hotel room and called Eve. The bonus she had found by her bedside was nice; a wad of cash from the handler who preferred to keep his distance, but the real highlight of her night was catching up with the woman she had left at home.  
This was new. Villanelle was unsettled by it. She loved her job, she enjoyed it and looked forward to her next hit. Her life couldn’t revolve around Eve. But Villanelle couldn’t change the way she felt. No matter how much she wanted to relish her work, the want to be at home had begun to outweighed it. Fuck. What had happened to her?

The conversation with Eve had settled her. At least in one way. Eve made her happy. She could put up with losing her spark in the assassin game if she got to go home to Eve when all was said and done. She could rely on her gun skills more and get the jobs done quicker. In another way, the conversation had not settled her. The want that Eve’s voice had awoken in her was burning. She couldn’t understand Eve’s reluctance to get a bit dirty on the phone, especially since Eve seemed to be missing that side of their relationship just as much as Villanelle was. But Eve said it would make her uncomfortable, so that was that. The old-fashioned comment had completely confused her. Did Eve think that phone sex was for young people? Clearly, Villanelle would have to explain it to Eve. But whatever. For now, Villanelle understood the basis of what Eve was saying: no phone sex.

It was frustrating, but Villanelle had relied on her imagination before and she could do it again. Before even having met Eve she would get herself off to thoughts of the woman with the amazing hair who was trying to track her down. Now her mind had ammunition, it had witnessed first hand what sex with Eve was like and it was ready to fire those thoughts right back at Villanelle.

But first, a wash. There was gunpowder residue on her hands and her left sleeve was stained in fresh, dark, rapidly drying, blood from where she had leant her wrist on her victim’s cheek and peered into his open eyes to double check there was no life left lurking within them. Her boots could probably do with a clean too, there was a suspicious glob of something thicker than blood on the toe of one of them. And then her gun could be unloaded and packed away, silencer removed, and ready to head home.

Eve had driven Villanelle to the airport two days earlier. Nobody had ever driven her to an airport before. Not even Konstantin. He had travelled with her before, in the early days when she was still learning, but he had never taken her to catch a flight by herself. Villanelle had not known how to identify the feeling that hit her when Eve had pulled on her coat and grabbed her car keys, saying that of course she was taking Villanelle to the airport. It was a pleasant feeling, but Villanelle did not know what to call it. Villanelle had tried to express the feeling back to Eve by pouring her emotions into a goodbye kiss in the entrance to the departures lounge at Heathrow. Eve had seemed a bit stunned when Villanelle had finally released her.

Villanelle, now cleansed of body matter and changed into her nightwear, zipped her gun into its separate compartment in her suitcase and made a decision. Eve wouldn’t meet her at the airport after her return flight. Villanelle would catch an early flight tomorrow morning and surprise Eve. She could buy her flowers. That was what couples did, wasn’t it? Buy each other flowers and plan surprises? Villanelle had definitely seen that kind of thing in films.

Before that though, she needed to get some rest and before that she had a backlog of thoughts of Eve in the bathtub to enjoy whilst she chased her own release.

Villanelle was just slipping into her hotel room bed and sliding a hand beneath the sheets when her phone rang from where it was charging on her nightstand. Villanelle smiled wildly. It could only be Eve. She answered and put the phone to her ear, a smug grin on her lips.

“So you changed your mind about the phone sex?”

There was a pause on the line and then a voice Villanelle was not expecting. A voice she hadn’t heard in months and had only recently begun to accept that she would probably never hear again.

“Hello Villanelle.”


	2. Would Have Warned You

“Hello Villanelle.”

She would know that voice anywhere. For years it had belonged to the most important person in her life. The closest she had ever had to a real family, someone who seemed to care. It was worth checking though. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. She had been missing that voice, that presence in her life. Perhaps she heard a male voice on the phone and was simply hoping it was his. 

“Konstantin?”

“Yes.”

Relief flooded through her. She sat upright on the bed, a smile plastered across her face and her eyes shining.

“Ha! I knew it! I knew you would not be dead! Did you think you’d got me?”

“No.”

“You didn’t get me. I knew you were alive.” She lied.

“You didn’t think for just a moment that I might be dead?” Konstantin asked doubtfully.

“Not once.” She lied again, with confidence.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I am very smart, you know? I knew you would not be dead.”

“OK, OK. I will pretend to believe you.”

“Why did you wait so long? They gave me a new handler, you know? I don’t even know his name. I have only met him once. He has a very bad haircut, nearly as bad as yours.”

“I know. There has been some… reorganising in the Twelve.” Konstantin ignored the dig about his hair, though he did pat it self-consciously.

“I don’t care about that. Why didn’t you call me sooner? And how did you get my phone number?”

“That is not important. And you should care about the Twelve.”

“Only Eve has my phone number. You should not have been able to get it.”

“I said it’s not important.”

“Who else has it?”

“Villanelle! I am coming to see you. I will come to England, OK? That is where you live now, am I right?”

Villanelle hesitated. There was something strange about this conversation. Konstantin never usually told her before visiting. He would just appear in her apartment. He’d had keys though, she supposed that had helped. And technically that was not her apartment. It was leased by the organisation they both worked for. He could hardly just appear in Eve’s house. Eve would not like that. 

“Villanelle? Are you listening? I will come to you, OK?”

“I am with Eve now.” She said quietly, almost sure that Konstantin would not be happy with that situation but deciding that maybe she didn’t care. She continued more assertively, “We are a couple.” She liked saying that. Konstantin let out a defeated sigh.

“You are happy?”

“Yes.” Villanelle answered instantly.

“That is what I thought. I will see you soon. I am telling you so that you can warn her.”

“Warn her about what?” Villanelle asked suspiciously. She heard a grumbling on the other end of the line and the sound of Konstantin shifting the phone from one ear to the other.

“Warn her that I am coming to see you. It’s important.”

“Oh. OK. I will tell her. I don’t think she likes you though.”

“That’s fine. I will see you soon.”

“When is soon?” Villanelle asked but she was met with three decisive beeps from her phone as Konstantin hung up. Villanelle checked her call log; the number had been withheld, though she had expected nothing less.

Konstantin was alive. That was good. She would have been disappointed in him if that shot to the gut had actually killed him. Someone would have had to mess up pretty badly at the hospital for that to have been fatal. Villanelle knew what she was doing after all. She didn’t want to kill the man who saved her, especially not in front of his own daughter. She had liked that annoying kid. Most reasonably healthy adults could survive that gunshot. Weird that he had only made contact now though, he’d had months.

Villanelle settled herself back down in bed and set an early alarm on her phone. It was a 30-minute cab ride to the airport and she wanted to catch the first flight to Heathrow, she was ready to get home to Eve now. Tomorrow was Saturday. That meant that they could spend the whole day together once Villanelle got home. They could spend the whole day in bed. Yes, that was a good idea. Villanelle nodded to herself and reached over to turn out the light.

 

Villanelle stayed true to her plan and had appeared in Eve’s house in time for brunch late on Saturday morning armed with pastries from the French bakery around the corner and a bouquet of flowers that she could hardly carry along with her suitcase. Eve had been suitably surprised and Villanelle had been very proud of herself. She was really starting to get to grips with this relationship thing. It was easy really; there was lots of talking and lots of gift buying. She didn’t know why so many people struggled with it.

The remainder of Saturday had been spent, as Villanelle had hoped, in bed assuring each other how much they had missed one another. Villanelle had been particularly rigorous in her assurances and Eve was sure she would be sore by Monday. They had dragged themselves downstairs on Saturday evening and had dinner together, ordering in because the fridge was bare and Villanelle had better things to focus her energy on besides cooking. Afterwards they had watched a film together, wrapped up in each other and a blanket on the sofa before returning to bed and not sleeping until the early hours. And this was after only two and a half days apart. Eve wondered what it would be like if Villanelle was called away for longer than that.

It wasn’t until after 1pm the next day that either of them arose again, and that was only because the doorbell had rung, waking Eve from her exhausted slumber. She wasn’t sure she had really heard it to begin with, glancing over her shoulder to see if Villanelle had also been roused by the sound. But Villanelle remained fast asleep on her back, one arm bent at the elbow above her head and the other lying loosely across her stomach which was bare, the sheets hanging at her hips. Eve must have imagined the doorbell. She wasn’t expecting anyone anyway. She flopped back down in the bed, shuffling closer to Villanelle and pulling the sheets up to cover them both. Then the doorbell rang again, twice this time.

Eve stumbled from the bed and staggered downstairs, pulling her robe on as she went and tying it tightly as she reached the bottom of the stairs, pulling the door open hurriedly. 

Eve blinked in the afternoon light. It had been dark in the bedroom and her eyes needed a moment to adjust. On the doorstep stood a large, lumbering figure, clad entirely in black. Eve gasped as she realised exactly who it was.

“OKSANA!” Eve screamed, attempting to push the door shut, only to find it stopped by a large black boot. 

Within seconds Villanelle was by her side, shoving her out of the way to the other side of the opened door and brandishing a loaded gun that she had whipped from God knows where on her way out of the bedroom. She was entirely naked and entirely unconcerned by her nudity, as usual. 

“Oh.” Villanelle relaxed and dropped her gun wielding hand to her side, flicking the safety on. Eve stood out of sight behind the door, her heart practically vibrating in her chest. And then she heard the deep, heavily accented voice from the doorstep.

“This is why I told you to warn her.”

“I forgot.” Villanelle shrugged, then her head appeared around the opened door. “Konstantin is not dead and he is coming to visit.” She said to Eve calmly. Communication is key, she knew this.

“No shit.” Eve gasped. Adrenaline still pounding through her veins.

“Hello Eve, it is lovely to see you again.” Called the voice from outside. Konstantin did not appear to be at all fazed by a naked Villanelle. If Eve had not been in a state of shock, she may deduce that Konstantin’s lack of reaction meant that it wasn’t the first time he was being confronted by her in all her glory.

Eve stepped around the door and stood next to Villanelle. She couldn’t quite find the right words, so she simply nodded at the burly man who smiled at her, showing his neat row of teeth before returning his attention to Villanelle, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.

“Villanelle. I brought you something.” Konstantin stuck his hand behind his back and pulled from beyond his bulking shape his daughter Irina.

“Ni hao!” Irina waved at Villanelle and then took in her appearance, “Oh dear. Why are you naked?”

Villanelle looked down at herself as if realising for the first time that she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“We were in bed.” Villanelle shrugged.

“Gross.” Replied Irina, and Konstantin chuckled, his rounded shoulders shaking.

“OK,” Eve finally spoke, quite loudly to interrupt the current line of conversation, and addressed Konstantin, “I assume you’re not here to kill us both in front of your daughter, so I guess come in?” 

Konstantin nodded, still smiling his slightly menacing smile. 

“Thank-you, Eve.” He stepped over the threshold, forcing Villanelle to shuffle backwards, and pulled Irina in behind him. There was an awkward moment where all four of them stood in close proximity in Eve’s narrow hallway. Eve cleared her throat.

“Oksana, why don’t you go and get dressed?” She suggested, raising her eyebrows and looking pointedly at Villanelle’s bared form.

“Oh. Yes. I will go and get dressed.” Villanelle agreed.

“Thank God.” Muttered Irina and Villanelle shot her a scathing look over her shoulder as she headed towards the stairs, pressing the gun into Eve’s hand when she passed her. Eve would probably feel safer if she left the gun with her, Villanelle reasoned.

Eve took the gun with an alarmed look and shoved it quickly into the pocket of her robe. What did Villanelle expect her to do with that? She was feeling a bit exposed in just the robe and hoped that Villanelle would dress quickly and return, not leave her with a firearm. 

“Um… Coffee anyone?” Eve asked, ushering her surprise visitors towards the kitchen.

“Yes please, Eve. That would be very nice.” Konstantin followed her through, with Irina trailing behind him. He seemed altogether too large for the house; it was like having a bear in the kitchen. Eve put the kettle on and gathered mugs from the cupboard as Konstantin pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, dwarfing the chair beneath him. Irina wondered into the adjoining living room and examined the books on the shelves.

Moments later Villanelle reappeared, whisking into the kitchen now fully dressed. She leant past Eve to take over the coffee making duty and whispered into her ear as she did so.

“Sorry baby.” 

Eve did not respond, but she glared at Villanelle as she relinquished her place by the counter and headed upstairs so that she too could put on something more appropriate for hosting guests. Voices from the kitchen carried up the stairs as she dropped her robe to the bedroom floor, surprised by the resounding clunk it made as the forgotten gun in the pocket hit the floorboards. She threw on some jeans and a sweater.

“You should have said when you were coming.” Eve could hear Villanelle chastising Konstantin downstairs as she stood in front of the mirror and pulled her hair back.

“I told you to warn her.” Came the rumbling reply.

“I was going to! But I didn’t think you would be here this soon!”

“I said ‘see you soon’.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! I told you she does not like you.” 

“Why doesn’t she like my dad?” Came a higher pitched voice.

“I don’t know.” That was Villanelle. Eve began to make her way back downstairs.

“She knew I was lying about things when we met in Russia.” Konstantin explained. And he wasn’t wrong, Eve thought.

“She’s very smart.” Villanelle said proudly.

“She can’t be that smart if she’s with you.” Irina said smugly.

“Shut up. Little brat.”

Eve walked back into the kitchen just as those words were uttered and shot a reproachful look at Villanelle.

“Right. Coffee.” Eve said, grabbing a now full mug from Villanelle and placing it in front of Konstantin. Villanelle picked up another mug and placed it in front of Irina who had taken up a seat next to her father. Irina looked at the mug and then at Villanelle.

“I’m a child.” 

“So?” Villanelle asked raising an eyebrow.

“Children don’t drink coffee.” Irina explained slowly as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Villanelle simply looked at her.

“We have orange juice.” Eve interrupted and placed a glass of it in front of Irina. 

“Thank-you, Eve.” Irina said politely. 

“Thank-you, Eve.” Villanelle mocked. Eve hip checked Villanelle and then sat down with a mug of coffee, leaving Villanelle to make one of her own.

“So, Konstantin. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Eve asked, trying to sound as though she had some semblance of control over this situation. Konstantin took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. 

“The Twelve are disbanding. It is time to get out.” He said gruffly.

“What do you mean disbanding?” Eve asked, placing her mug, untouched on the table in front of her. Villanelle pulled out a chair and sat beside Eve. She tried to take hold of Eve’s hand from where it rested on the table, but Eve pulled it away. Irina sniggered when she noticed the interaction and Villanelle aimed a kick at her beneath the table, she missed and Irina stuck her tongue out at Villanelle. Eve glanced between the two of them distractedly and then returned to her line of questioning.

“Konstantin?”

“The organisation is breaking down. They feel they have achieved most of what they set out to do and it is time to go separate ways and move onto new… ventures.”

“And what happens to their employees? What happens to Oksana?” Eve asked anxiously. Konstantin glanced at Villanelle at the use of her old name and held her gaze as he began to reply, before looking at Eve once more.

“The handlers have been instructed to dispose of their assets.” Konstantin explained slowly.

Eve felt ice shoot along her veins and next to her Villanelle laughed.

“Have you seen my new handler? He is skinny and useless. I could take him like that,” she clicked her fingers and laughed again, shaking her head.

“I know that.” Konstantin agreed, “So do the Twelve. That is why I offered.”

“You offered,” Eve began and then swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts, “To kill Oksana?” This had to be some kind of joke, or a dream perhaps. She was clearly still asleep. Who brings their daughter to witness a murder? Who rings a doorbell to commit a murder?

“Correct.” Konstantin nodded. Eve nodded as well, a mixture of horror and confusion on her face, her mouth hanging open. Villanelle shifted beside her and Eve felt an arm rest across her shoulders, she was too lost in thought to shake Villanelle off this time.

“Relax. He won’t kill me.” Villanelle assured, leaning in and speaking quietly to Eve.

“Correct again.” Konstantin agreed. “You locked my wife in a closet and kidnapped my daughter,” at his side Irina nodded solemnly, “And you shot me in the gut, but—”

“You hit me with a log!” Villanelle exclaimed, “And I looked after your daughter.” She added sullenly.

“You made me steal from people, and I saw a woman shoot herself in the head.” Irina cut in.

“So? I bought you food.” Villanelle narrowed her eyes at Irina.

“You did all of that,” Konstantin spoke again, “But, you are my favourite and I am here to offer you a different way out.”

“Go on,” Eve said, trying to keep up with all the information that was flying at her.

“Tomorrow Eve, you will take me to see Carolyn Martens. It is time I called in a favour.” Konstantin said decisively.

 

The rest of that Sunday had passed as bizarrely as it started. Not much more was said about the future of the Twelve, or the future of Villanelle. There was no more discussion of favours or disposing of assets. A shadow followed Eve throughout the day though, an unsettled feeling in her bones, a future unknown. 

She was far from Carolyn Martens’ favourite person, and now somehow Villanelle’s entire existence depended on her arranging a meeting between her ex-boss and Konstantin. She should have known that getting involved with an assassin would never make for a simple life.

Villanelle had wanted to take Konstantin and Irina out for the rest of the day. They had traipsed through various London markets, both Villanelle and Konstantin being mostly interested in the food stalls and before long they were both weighed down by various bags of different food items. Irina had hung back and tried to engage Eve in conversation. She had asked Eve what languages she could speak and had been noticeably unimpressed when Eve said she only spoke English really. She asked about Eve’s heritage and was excited to hear that her parents had been Korean immigrants. Normally Eve may have enjoyed talking about that with someone who was actually interested, but today she remained distracted.

In the evening, Villanelle cooked for them all. Preparing sausages baked in honey and some kind of cabbage dish that seemed decidedly Russian but surprisingly delicious. Villanelle seemed perfectly relaxed, almost as though she hadn’t been told that the organisation which employs her had orchestrated her death only hours before. She moved confidently around the kitchen as Eve poured herself and Konstantin extra large glasses of wine. She bickered with Irina who was also in the kitchen, partly trying to be helpful but mostly enjoying getting in Villanelle’s way. 

Eve had kept her distance from Villanelle through the remainder of the day. She had been annoyed that Villanelle failed to warn her that Konstantin would be turning up, and annoyed that Villanelle didn’t seem to take her possible death seriously enough. Villanelle had most definitely noticed Eve’s avoidance of her and had stopped trying to touch her whenever possible and started instead to throw kicked puppy expressions Eve’s way every now and then. Eve was pretty good at ignoring those.

After dinner, and a decent amount of wine, Eve had made up the guest room bed for Konstantin and had been assured by Irina that she would be comfortable on the sofa.

“It’s a shitty sofa, not comfortable at all.” Villanelle had said, glaring accusingly at the sofa.

“I am not as long as you,” Irina had replied, “Or as heavy.” She added with a smirk. 

“Little shit,” Villanelle had muttered and then disappeared upstairs.

Eve had made sure Irina was comfortable, hesitated about whether to tuck her in or not – she wasn’t used to children – and then followed Villanelle upstairs.

Eve stopped at the top of the stairs, hearing voices creeping out from the guest room.

“Yes, well, you were naughty,” came Konstantin’s low voice, “She will understand if you apologise properly. None of that ‘sorry baby’ shit, OK?”

“She likes the ‘sorry baby’ shit, it is a joke now.”

“She won’t find it funny tonight. Do it properly, Villanelle.” 

“OK.” There was a pause, which Eve suspected was a sigh, “I will do it properly. Goodnight.” 

Eve stepped quickly into her bedroom to avoid being caught eavesdropping and Villanelle appeared a moment later, edging into the room cautiously.

“I am in trouble, yes?” She asked quietly, stepping towards where Eve was pulling pyjamas from the drawer.

“It would have been nice to know that we were having visitors.” Eve agreed with a sigh. She wasn’t mad really, not anymore, that had dissipated mostly. Now she was more worried than annoyed.

“I am sorry, Eve. I should have told you he was coming. I meant to tell you but I got distracted when I got home and forgot. I remembered once but it didn’t seem the right time to tell you when I was about to make you come.”

“No,” Eve granted, “That would have ruined the mood.”

“Mmmm. Yes.” Villanelle replied, taking the pyjamas from Eve’s hands and putting them back in the drawer. 

“Why don’t you like Konstantin?” Villanelle asked, tucking a strand of hair behind Eve’s ear.

“He was right earlier. I knew he was lying to us in Russia. I didn’t trust him.” Eve closed her eyes and pulled Villanelle towards her until their bodies were flush.

“He was protecting me. He still is.” Villanelle explained, wrapping her arms around Eve and holding her closer still.

“I know.” And she did know that, but it was hard to shake the echoes of the first interactions she’d had with Villanelle’s original handler. She ran through them in her mind and then laughed.

“What’s funny?” Villanelle asked, pulling back and looking at Eve questioningly.

“I saw his dick once.” Eve said laughing to herself. She probably wouldn’t have voiced that memory without the lingering effects of tonight’s wine. Villanelle stepped away so quickly that Eve’s arms dropped back to her side of their own accord.

“What?” Villanelle hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Oh, calm down.” Eve said dismissively, pulling a tense Villanelle back into her reach, “It was an accident. He was peeing. I had a gun. There was nothing sexual about it.”

“There had better not have been,” Villanelle grumbled, allowing herself to be wrapped in Eve’s arms once more and tucked her face into the crook of Eve’s neck “I would not aim for his gut next time.” She vowed, voice muffled. Eve laughed.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said, releasing Villanelle once more, “This day has been… a lot.”

“I am sorry.” Villanelle said again.

“I know. It’s OK.” Eve reassured her. 

Together they got ready for bed and before long were settled beneath the sheets, Eve with her head pillowed on Villanelle’s shoulder and a strong arm wrapped around her. Eve was just closing her eyes when Villanelle spoke.

“Do you ever miss it?” She asked quietly, thoughtfully.

“Miss what?”

“Dick.” 

“Oh my God. Seriously?” Eve pushed herself up until she was resting on her elbow and peered at Villanelle in the darkness. Villanelle shrugged and said nothing, but held Eve’s gaze.

“Tomorrow I have to help Konstantin convince Carolyn Martens into some kind of favour that will keep you alive, and tonight your biggest concern is that I may miss having sex with men?” Eve asked in disbelief.

“You might.” Villanelle argued, “It’s what you always wanted before you met me.” And there may have been a slight tone of smugness there, before she continued, “Anyway, what I was going to say is there are things we could buy, things I could do—”

Eve interrupted Villanelle with a kiss, she lingered on the other woman’s lips for a moment before sucking gently on Villanelle’s lower lip and pulling back. 

“I don’t want anything other than you.” She promised.

“You’re sure? Because we could—”

Eve placed another kiss on Villanelle’s lips and pulled back.

“Go to sleep, Oksana.” Eve said warmly and repositioned head on the other woman’s shoulder.

“OK. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Eve rolled her eyes before closing them. In the morning they would have more important things to contend with, she was sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for all the comments on the previous chapter. It's always good to know if you guys are enjoying this, so the feedback is most welcome!


	3. Favour for your Favourite

Eve hardly slept. Her mind was too busy whirring through possibilities and what-ifs. What if Konstantin couldn’t persuade Carolyn to help give Villanelle a way out of the Twelve? What even was his plan? Could Carolyn help him make Villanelle’s “death” more convincing? Could she grant some kind of diplomatic immunity? Surely not… Maybe just offer a new identity, a British passport? Why hadn’t Eve pushed for more information during the day when she had the chance? Does she even trust Konstantin? She knows he was a double agent, liaising with herself and Vlad on behalf of the Russian intelligence, but also employed by the Twelve as Villanelle’s handler and trainer.  
  
She did trust that he cared for Villanelle. There was a definite love there, that much was unmistakable. And Eve strongly believed that it was mutual. The conversation she had overheard between the two Russians earlier was enough to confirm that if she hadn’t already suspected as much. It was a father/daughter relationship Eve had come to realise throughout the day. Villanelle may mock and tease Konstantin and bicker incessantly with Irina, but that was how she showed affection. Eve would just have to put her faith into the bearded man too. But that didn’t help her sleep. She still had her role to play in this.  
  
There was something else keeping her awake as well. If, for just a second, she managed to forget the difficult day ahead tomorrow, she would be reminded by the thundering snores from across the hall. Not only did Konstantin resemble a grizzly bear in figure and appetite, but he also sounded like one as he slept. Eve could almost convince herself that the house was shaking with his rumbling exhales. It was impossible to forget he was here. She shifted again. She had tried to remain still even as she failed to sleep so as not to disturb the woman next to her, who clearly wasn’t suffering the same sleepless affliction.  
  
“Baby,” came a muffled voice from somewhere near the top of her head that rested on Villanelle’s chest. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she was awake after all.  
  
“Mmm?” Eve replied.  
  
“You cannot sleep?” Villanelle whispered.  
  
“No. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s OK. Come here.” Villanelle rolled onto her side and pushed Eve over to do the same before wrapping her arms around her securely and lifting her knees up to tuck under Eve’s own. She had cocooned Eve in warmth. Eve sighed comfortably.  
  
“Nothing is going to happen to me, OK?” Villanelle whispered into Eve’s neck. Eve nodded but didn’t say anything.  
  
“I won’t let anyone take me from you.” Villanelle promised. Eve nodded again. “We will deal with it together. And Konstantin is here to help.” Eve brought her hands up to cover Villanelle’s and gave them an appreciative squeeze. There was silence for a couple of minutes and Eve thought Villanelle may have drifted off again.  
  
“Oksana?” She whispered. There was something else she felt she needed to say.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I… I love you. Just, uh… Just so you know.” Eve cringed internally. That was hardly the most romantic way to declare her love. Behind her she felt Villanelle tense up. They had implied this before; it wasn’t news to either of them. But the simple, honest, three-word sentence wasn’t one that they had uttered to each other before. Villanelle took a deep breath, Eve could feel the air being sucked in through her hair.  
  
“I love you as well.” Villanelle replied, just above a whisper and her voice cracking faintly. Eve squeezed her hands again and pushed herself back further into Villanelle’s embrace. Eve felt Villanelle exhale against her and then she spoke again.  
  
“Can we go to sleep now and stop talking as if we are both going to die tomorrow?”  
  
Eve laughed quietly.  
  
“Yes, yes. Sorry darling.”  
  
“You are very dramatic, Eve.” Villanelle told her sleepily.  
  
Eve was tempted to remind Villanelle that she was the one who killed a man with an adapted hairpin and that _surely_ that was far more dramatic than anything Eve had ever said or done, but she could feel Villanelle’s grip on her relaxing and could hear her breathing even out as sleep reclaimed the younger woman. This time, Eve followed her.  
  
  
  
In the morning, chaos reigned. The kitchen was an obstacle course of people and breakfast routines all trying to weave together and all failing hopelessly. Villanelle had burnt her finger on the toaster and sworn fiercely in French, prompting Irina to copy her and Konstantin to scold them both, slamming a fist down onto the kitchen counter to disrupt their imminent argument. Eve quietly poured herself a cup of strong coffee and took herself upstairs to her office.  
  
She collapsed into her recently repaired office chair and ran a hand through her hair. It was just-brushed, but already beginning to show the effects of her constantly running her fingers through it – a common tell of her stress levels. She fired off an email to work, telling them she was feeling unwell but would work from home today. Next she picked up the phone from her desk and took a deep breath, in and out, to steel herself before dialling the memorised number for Carolyn Martens’ office.  
  
She wasn’t in the office today, Carolyn’s PA informed her. On Mondays she works from home. Eve should have remembered that.  
  
Well, it might just work in their favour. She knew where Carolyn lived, and now she wouldn’t have to smuggle an over-sized member of a Russian crime syndicate through the MI6 offices. Yes, this was a good start. After breakfast she and Konstantin would pay a visit to the Martens residence. Villanelle would have to take care of Irina. That should be… fine. Probably.  
  
Sure enough, Villanelle had feigned upset at being tasked with taking Irina under her wing but Eve knew better. Villanelle was remarkably quick to decide that the two of them would visit the dungeons at the Tower of London together, so quick in fact that Eve suspected Villanelle had already thought about activities for them both. As though wary of the other adults thinking she had gone soft, Villanelle then swiftly informed Irina that if she had to play babysitter then Irina could carry out the disgusting task of feeding the chickens. Irina had agreed amiably and Villanelle had nodded with satisfaction.  
  
Now Eve found herself trotting along the pavement to Carolyn Marten’s house, attempting to keep up with Konstantin, who despite not being in the best physical shape, seemed to stride along with some speed and purpose.  
  
“I want to know why you’re doing this.” Eve said, trying to sound authoritative but missing the mark slightly as she was a bit out of breath. “I want to know _what_ you’re doing.”  
  
Konstantin did not look at Eve, but he slowed his pace minutely.  
  
“I am doing this because I have been watching and I have never seen Villanelle as happy as she is now. I want to keep it that way.” He said, “And what I am doing is getting her a job, keeping her from harm, hiding her from those who would wish to harm her.”  
  
“A job?” Eve asked, surprised. “Like, you tell the Twelve you’ve killed her and then she steps into a nine-to-five, salaried, five weeks holiday a year sort of job?”  
  
Konstantin heaved a sigh but still kept walking.  
  
“I am keeping her safe. That is _my_ job.” He finished and glanced at Eve before picking up the pace again.  
  
“I thought your job was to send her off to murder people and keep her in line for the Twelve.” Eve replied dubiously. Konstantin grunted.  
  
“Not that job. That hasn’t been my job since before she shot me.”  
  
“Then what—”  
  
Konstantin stopped abruptly and Eve just managed to catch herself before she collided with his upper arm. He turned and looked her in the eye. Eve tried to hide the flash of panic she felt at his sudden attention.  
  
“You love her?” He asked.  
  
“I… Yes. I do.” Eve nodded.  
  
“You would want to protect her at all costs?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Well then.” Konstantin raised his eyebrows at her, “We’re on the same page, no?” He didn’t wait for her answer and set off again before turning into the gate to Carolyn Marten’s house and waiting at the front door for Eve to catch him up.  
  
“You already knew where to find Carolyn.” Eve stated blankly. Konstantin nodded.  
  
“Ring the doorbell,” he instructed, his eyes remaining on the door in front of him. Eve did as he asked.  
  
It was almost a minute of uncomfortable silence on the doorstep before the front door swung open to reveal… Kenny.  
  
“Kenny!” Eve almost shouted. This, she hadn’t planned for, hadn’t expected.  
  
“Eve.” Kenny replied, a tone of surprise in his voice, and then he recognised Konstantin next to her and Eve saw his jaw clench. Kenny had discovered things about his mother and the man he was now faced with that no son needed to know.  
  
Kenny’s eyes remained locked on Konstantin, who smiled awkwardly back at him, waiting for Eve to do something.  
  
“Eve?” Kenny said again through gritted teeth.  
  
“Right. Uh. Is Carolyn here?”  
  
Kenny took a step back and shouted over his shoulder, still not taking his eyes off the man on the doorstep with Eve.  
  
“MUM!”  
  
A moment later Carolyn appeared at his shoulder with a pug under her arm.  
  
“Kenny, do you have to shout like that? You knew I was only in the kitchen.” Then she caught sight of her visitors.  
  
“Oh. Hello.” She said, not an ounce of shock at seeing Konstantin alive and well and in her front garden. “You’d better come in. I’m just giving Martin his eye drops.” She lifted the pug a fraction in her arms as she spoke, before turning and disappearing back the way she had come.  
  
Konstantin lifted a hand and gestured for Eve to enter first and then followed her into the hall. Kenny gave Eve a suspicious side-eye as she passed and she shrugged apologetically.  
  
In Carolyn’s kitchen, she had placed Martin the Pug on the table and donned her glasses. She was peering down her nose at the pug, who stared back at her, the whites of his eyes showing manically and his tongue lolling out.  
  
“I know you don’t like it, but it has to be done.” Carolyn said to the panting creature.  
  
Just inside the door, Konstantin glanced at Eve and they shared a baffled look.  
  
Carolyn raised a small bottle of eye drops and applied a drop to each of Martin’s bulging eyes. Martin, in response, smacked his lips repeatedly instead of blinking.  
  
“Such a stupid creature.” Carolyn muttered as she scooped up the pug and placed him onto the floor where he immediately skittered from the room, Konstantin and Eve stepping aside to let him through. Carolyn replaced the cap to the eye drop bottle and removed her glasses before turning her attention to the other occupants of the room.  
  
“I wondered when I would see you, Konstantin.” She said, the ghost of a smile graced her lips as she looked at him, then her eyes flitted to Eve and the smile dropped. “Eve, you are more of a surprise.”  
  
“Yes, well…” Eve started. But Konstantin stepped in front of her and ambled towards Carolyn, taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

 “It is good to see you again, Carolyn.”  
  
“Likewise. I knew it would take more than a bullet to keep you down.” The smile was back and she gave his hand a joyful shake.  
  
“Right as usual.” Konstantin returned her grin and Eve shuffled uncomfortably, she hoped Kenny had made himself scarce and wasn’t listening to this loaded exchange from the hallway.  
  
“And am I right as well in assuming that you are here to cash in a favour?” Carolyn asked, raising her eyebrows knowingly.  
  
“You are.” Konstantin nodded, a more serious look taking over his features.  
  
“And you’ve brought Eve here along, so that can’t be good.” Carolyn replied. “Oh well, go on then. What is it?”  
  
“The Twelve are disbanding.”  
  
“You haven’t forgotten that I work in British Intelligence, have you?” Carolyn asked, “I am well aware of that fact. I assumed you had got yourself free of their web.”  
  
“I have made my arrangements.” Konstantin nodded. Carolyn studied him for a moment, a look of minor confusion on her face and then a pause as though the cogs in her brain were turning over before slotting into place. Her eyebrows lifted and she turned to Eve with a smirk.  
  
“Well Eve, perhaps we are more alike than I thought. She’s not dead after all, is she? Your little Russian fixation?”  
  
Eve opened her mouth to reply but Carolyn continued.  
  
“And you had us all convinced you had stabbed her. Very clever. Oh, well done you!” Carolyn seemed genuinely impressed.  
  
“I did stab her!” Eve insisted. “But then we… Well… I mean, she’s back now.”  
  
“Hmmm,” Carolyn considered Eve quietly and then returned her attention to Konstantin.  
  
“You want to use your favour to save your favourite assassin?”  
  
“I do. I want you to employ her.”  
  
“You remember that she killed two members of our staff?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“She wasn’t particularly receptive the last time I offered her a deal,” Carolyn murmured, seemingly to herself, then she looked at Eve, “Though it seems her circumstances might have changed.”  
  
Carolyn nodded thoughtfully, her gaze not on Eve or Konstantin now but floating somewhere in the middle distance.  
  
“OK.” She looked decisively at Konstantin . “I’m sure I can find a discrete role for her. But Eve,” and at this Eve stood to attention before Carolyn continued, now fixing Eve with a pointed look, “If this goes tits up, it’s all on you.”  
  
“It won’t! I promise!” Eve enthused, “She’ll behave and I—” Carolyn cut her off.  
  
“If that’s all, I must go. I have pilates at 11.30.” She began herding both of them towards the door, past Kenny who plastered himself against the wall as though he may be able to blend in enough that they wouldn’t know he had been listening in.  
  
Carolyn opened the door and Eve rushed out, throwing a look at Kenny that she hoped promised she would explain everything later. Konstantin paused on the threshold and Carolyn caught hold of his elbow.  
  
“Call me later.” She said quietly, but not so quietly that both Kenny and Eve could have missed it. Even from the doorstep Eve saw Kenny shudder. A moment later the door clicked shut behind them.  
  
“Well.” Eve said, “That was… a lot easier than I thought.”  
  
“She is a good woman.” Konstantin stated and set off down the road. Eve hurried to catch up.  
  
“You didn’t need me there at all.” Eve pointed out as though the realisation had just dawned on her.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“What the hell was all that about then? I barely slept last night!”  
  
“I wanted to check that you really cared. I wanted to be sure this is the right thing for Villanelle.”  
  
Eve hung back for a moment, partly astounded, partly infuriated. She once again hurried to catch up to Konstantin who had not slowed at all.  
  
“And?” She asked incredulously.  
  
“I am satisfied.” Konstantin shrugged. And it was that shrug, that same dismissive shrug. Eve had thought that shrug was so characteristically Villanelle, but now she realised it was Konstantin’s shrug. Villanelle had simply picked it up over the years. God, she really had done the whole meet-the-parents thing without even realising it.  
  
Eve shook that thought off as best she could.  
  
“You know Oksana has probably traumatised your daughter quite a bit by now, right?” Eve asked, and Konstantin chuckled.  
  
“They will be fine. They are very fond of each other.” He said confidently and then stopped and looked at Eve, assessing her for a moment before seeming to come to some conclusion.  
  
“Let’s get lunch. You can tell me how you got Villanelle to let you call her Oksana… Or perhaps I do not want to know, hmm?”  
  
  
  
  
Villanelle had found the London Dungeons truly entertaining and had indulged herself in retelling some of her own torture techniques to Irina who seemed… less than impressed, but whatever. Now, they had trudged back to Eve’s house, by way of a burger joint where they had both had their fill of greasy fries and slimy hamburgers, and Villanelle had decided that now they would bake. Eve would like that, to come home to the house smelling of baked goods and she would probably like a cup of tea when she gets in, so a piece of cake would go nicely with that.  
  
Irina was tolerating playing sous chef to Villanelle, mostly because of the promise of Skazka cake at the end of it, but also because, well, she liked Villanelle. Even if she did tease her and laugh at her, Irina suspected that’s what having a sister would have been like. Today had been fun; they hadn’t robbed anyone and Irina hadn’t caught even the flash of a gun on Villanelle – though she suspected there was one somewhere – there had been no bullet wounds and no bloodshed, no screaming or sirens.  
  
“I think you aren’t sad anymore.” Irina pointed out as Villanelle sieved flour into whisked sugar and eggs. Villanelle looked through the snowfall of flour at the young girl beside her.  
  
“And I think you are still one of those annoying profound kids.” She replied.  
  
“I was right though, wasn’t I? You were sad.” Irina pressed on.  
  
Villanelle narrowed her eyes at Irina but ignored the question and began to fold the flour into the sticky mixture in the bowl on the counter in front of her.  
  
“Vanilla extract.” She demanded and held her hand out to Irina, who placed a small bottle in it.  
  
“You did bad things because you were sad. And now you’re not sad so…”  
  
“I still do bad things.” Villanelle said quickly, “Grease that cake tin.”  
  
Irina followed Villanelle’s instructions and was quiet for a moment.  
  
“Do you still _want_ to do bad things?” She looked up at Villanelle who didn’t make eye contact with her, but dropped her shoulders.  
  
“I don’t know. Sometimes.” She muttered.  
  
“I don’t think that you do really.” Irina replied sagely.  
  
“No?” Villanelle asked, “Well maybe you don’t know _everything_.” She dragged out the final word mockingly, cocking her head from side to side.  
  
“I know that you’re happy now.” Irina ignored Villanelle’s teasing, “And it’s because you have Eve. Did you know you’ve only told me to shut up seven times today?”  
  
“Oh really? Only seven?” Villanelle replied, looking genuinely surprised.  
  
“Yes. Only seven.” Irina nodded, “See? I do know everything.” She grinned at Villanelle and passed her a greased cake tin.  
  
“Shut up.” Villanelle said, curling her lip menacingly as she spoke. Irina laughed.  
  
“I like Eve.” Irina said, turning and resting her back on the counter as Villanelle transferred the cake batter into the tin and put the whole lot in the oven.  
  
“Good for you.” Villanelle muttered.  
  
“No, she is good for _you._ ” Irina replied, smirking over her shoulder at Villanelle who responded by swiping a glob of cake batter from the now mostly empty bowl and flicking it in her face. “Hey!” Irina exclaimed, still smiling, and wiping at her face.  
  
There was the sound of keys in the front door and then two sets of footsteps entering the house.  
  
“Hello? Irina?” Came Konstantin’s booming voice.  
  
“We are in the kitchen!” Irina shouted.  
  
Villanelle turned and leant against the counter next to her, the large mixing bowl in her hands, she swiped another glob of leftover batter and stuck her finger in her mouth.  
  
“What smells so good in here?” Eve asked wondering into the kitchen and unravelling a scarf from her neck.  
  
“We baked!” Irina said.  
  
“We?” Villanelle asked with a raised eyebrow and stuck her finger back into the bowl before lowering the whole thing so Irina could also take a swipe at the batter.  
  
“Well, whoever did it, it smells delicious,” Eve said, then leant over and gave Villanelle a kiss on the cheek, “Hello darling.”  
  
Villanelle smiled warmly at Eve.  
  
“Hello darling,” Irina repeated to Villanelle, whose smile dropped as she kicked Irina in the ankle.  
  
“Shut up.” She hissed, and took the bowl over to the sink.  
  
“Nine times!” Called Irina. Villanelle raised a middle finger over her shoulder in response and Irina laughed.  
  
Konstantin came stomping into the kitchen, wrapped Irina momentarily in a one armed hug and then spoke loudly.  
  
“Guess who has a new job?” he asked and then pointed a plump finger at Villanelle.  
  
Eve looked at Villanelle and smiled, lifting her shoulders happily.  
  
“What?” Villanelle demanded, looking none too pleased.  
  
“Carolyn Martens will give you a job with them—”  
  
“I don’t want to work with _Carolyn Martens_.” Villanelle interrupted, uttering her name scornfully, “You are joking right?” she demanded, looking between Eve and Konstantin. Eve looked uncomfortable.  
  
“Well, no. I mean—” She started and then Villanelle interrupted once more.

 “What am I going to do? Sit in an office all day? I will go insane.” Her eyes were wide.  
  
“It’s not that bad. I work in an office.” Eve said, trying to placate Villanelle who was becoming increasingly agitated.  
  
“Well, you are good at settling for boring things aren’t you, Eve?” Villanelle exploded. Eve recoiled as though she had been burnt, but Villanelle continued, “Just because you can be happy with a shitty office job, does not mean I can.”

 “Hey!” Konstantin shouted, “That’s enough, Villanelle.”  
  
Villanelle cursed at him in Russian until he raised his hands in defeat and took a step back. Irina edged into the corner by the oven.  
  
“You didn’t tell me your little favour would be a fucking desk job for the rest of my life!” Villanelle ranted, switching back to English, presumably for Eve’s benefit.  
  
“Oksana,” Eve spoke as calmly as she could manage, “This is your only option, the Twelve want to—”  
  
“So let them!” Villanelle shouted, “I won’t be easy to kill though.” She muttered and strode out of the room.  
  
“Oksana!” Eve called, all pretence of calm now giving way to desperation. But there was no response from Villanelle, only a moment’s pause, the rustling of a jacket being thrown on and then the slamming of the front door.  
  
Eve slumped into a chair and leant onto the table, her head in her hands and her fingers digging into her hair.  
  
“Oh dear.” said Konstantin and Irina at the same time.  
  
Behind Irina the oven timer sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is my fuel


	4. Change is Gonna Come for You

Irina had been asleep for maybe an hour or so when something woke her. She opened her eyes in the darkness of Eve’s living room but couldn’t see anything. There was a firm nudge on her blanket covered feet.

“Move up.”

It was Villanelle’s voice and Irina struggled to sit up on the sofa, pulling the blanket with her and switching on the lamp, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the light. The other end of the sofa dipped as Villanelle sat down, wordlessly.

“Where did you go?” Irina asked, her voice rough with sleep. “Eve was scared.”

Villanelle shifted next to her.

“I needed to get out.” She said flatly.

Irina didn’t need to know where she had been. She didn’t need to know that Villanelle had slipped down into the nearest underground station and boarded the first tube to come in, not bothering to check where it was going. She didn’t need to know that Villanelle had forced her seething body into a seat on the tube and glared around at her fellow passengers, daring one of them to look at her the wrong way, urging someone, anyone, to give her an excuse to use the switchblade she was squeezing in her hand, hidden in her pocket. Anger at Konstantin had flashed searing hot through her, anger at Eve, for going through with Konstantin’s _stupid fucking plan_. She had eyed everyone on the tube one-by-one, deciding which one she might most enjoy slicing into, and then stared at them with burning eyes, begging them to look her way. Then she had remembered: Londoners don’t make eye contact on public transport. Nobody was going to play her game. She had eased her grip on the concealed blade and she knew; she wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway.

That realisation sunk like a stone inside her, dropping out of sight and into the murky depths of her. It had been her passion, loosening the life from people and then extinguishing it. She looked back on her kills with fondness. Her favourites would change depending on her mood, but she was proud of nearly all of them. And now? Her desire to add to the list had been receding. The kid was right. Happy people don’t really want to do bad things. _Fucking Eve_. Eve had ruined everything Villanelle had made for herself. Villanelle had had a life all her own, she built it from the ashes of her shitty, neglectful childhood, from Anna’s rejection and from those incarcerated years, and it had suited her. And then Eve.

Her thoughts of Eve whipped through her mind like dried leaves caught in a sudden gust of wind. She couldn’t hold onto them, there were too many and they kept changing direction, whisking out of her grasp as soon as she touched one: Eve asking her questions about her parents. Eve disliking a pair of shoes she had bought her. Eve laughing with the Moustache Man. Eve shouting at her in the restaurant bathroom. Eve making her sleep on the sofa. Eve setting out with Konstantin to see Carolyn Martens. Eve thinking Villanelle could be contained in an office job for the rest of her life.

Villanelle had hopped up from her seat at that thought, swinging around the nearest handrail on the tube and waiting by the doors so that she could exit as soon as the train next stopped. Eve must be insane. How could Villanelle sit behind a desk all day? How could she make idle chitchat with men in cheap suits while they wait for the kettle to boil in the office kitchen? What, would she sit in meetings and make notes? Give quarterly reports on her work, whatever the fuck it would be? Eve had lost her mind. She’d rather take her chances with the Twelve. The train stopped and Villanelle stepped out, striding towards the escalator and taking the steps two at a time. She emerged into dusk and busy streets. Home-time for Londoners, heading back from work. How could Villanelle possibly be one of them?

A woman with voluminous brunette hair wearing a form-fitting coat walked in Villanelle’s direction, laughing into the phone held to her ear. Villanelle’s stomach flipped excitedly, as it always used to when she saw women like this during her Paris days. This was the beginning of the hunt. The woman passed by and Villanelle turned eagerly in her tracks and took two steps to follow her, and then—

Eve letting Villanelle rest her head in her lap, and stroking her hair whilst they watched a movie. Eve refusing to let Villanelle wash up the dishes after dinner because she had cooked it. The sensation of Eve’s mouth between her legs, discovering for the first time, how it felt to love a woman. Eve laughing at Villanelle’s chicken-feeding outfit. Eve driving her to the airport. Eve leaving Villanelle little notes on her nightstand when she had to go to work early. Eve showing Irina how to use her Oyster card on the tube to Borough Market. Eve’s face when Villanelle told her she was boring. _Fucking Eve_. Eve had ruined everything Villanelle had made for herself, and she had given her something better.

 

 

“How angry is Eve?” Villanelle asked Irina, risking a glance at the half-asleep child next to her. Irina mulled her answer over for a bit before speaking.

“She is not angry I think. She is scared and she is upset. You were not very kind.”

Villanelle sank back into the sofa cushions.

“She was scared of me?” she asked regretfully.

“I don’t think so. She is probably scared that you would rather get yourself killed than stay here and do things properly.”

“That’s stupid. They couldn’t kill me if they tried.”

“What’s stupid is if it is true. If you would rather let them try than take the job my dad got you.” Irina said, with a bite to her voice that Villanelle had never heard before. Villanelle looked at her curiously and Irina shifted awkwardly.

“I do not want you to die either.” Irina muttered quietly, and glanced away.

Villanelle groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Nobody is going to die. I am far too smart for that.” She said smugly. “OK?” She asked, offering what she probably thought was a reassuring smile. Irina just looked at her.

“You are scared of change.” Irina said blankly. Villanelle scoffed.

“I am not scared of anything.”

“Liar.”

“Little shit.”

“You are scared because you only know how to kill people and now you can’t do it anymore.”

“I can still kill people!” Villanelle whispered harshly, “I still _like_ killing people.” she added defensively.

“What?” Irina asked, confused, “I meant because the Twelve aren’t going to be a thing any more. You are losing your job.”

“Oh.” Villanelle said, “Yes, that is true.”

“And it used to be just you and you could do whatever you want. And now you have Eve as well.”

“I can still do whatever I want.” Villanelle said sullenly. Irina chuckled quietly.

“You are scared of change. But it has already happened. Your old life is gone, but you have a new one and I think you like it.” Irina said with finality.

“You’re so annoying.” Villanelle replied, but there was no venom in her words.

“But I am right, aren’t I? You were sad before anyway.” Irina said, and began to plump up her pillow at the end of the sofa.

“Shut up.” Villanelle muttered, “And let me in.” She said, lifting the edge of Irina’s blanket and beginning to move her legs onto the sofa.

“No way!” Irina exclaimed, shoving Villanelle away lightly, “This sofa is uncomfortable enough without you taking up all the space.”

“I am not fat. Let me in.” Villanelle tried again.

“No. You go upstairs and deal with your girlfriend.” Irina said, pushing at Villanelle’s thigh with her bare feet.

“Ugh. Brat.” Villanelle slapped Irina’s feet away and stood up, walking hesitantly towards the door.

“Good luck!” Irina called, snuggling back down in her bed on the sofa.

 

From the top of the stairs Villanelle could hear nothing. Konstantin must be awake, as no snores were rattling the windowpanes yet. She could see that there was a strip of soft light coming from under Eve’s closed bedroom door – their bedroom door? – She was still awake too then. Villanelle took a deep breath and briefly considered knocking before she decided that would be an odd thing to do. This had been her bedroom too for months now. Her clothes were in it, her toiletries in the bathroom, her scent on the pillow next to Eve’s. She didn’t need to knock.

She opened the door slowly and stepped in. The sense of trepidation hanging heavy within her. Perhaps she had pissed off Eve one too many times now. It wasn’t that she was trying to. She was trying to do the exact opposite in fact, but whatever choice she made seemed to frequently be the wrong one. She was just no good at this. Conversation was key, sure, but she had to know what to say.

Inside, the room was lit with a warm glow from the lamp next to Eve’s bedside, the curtains were drawn to block out the darkness and on the bed, not in the bed, lay Eve. She was prone on her back, her eyes on the ceiling and she didn’t turn to look at Villanelle. This was… not what Villanelle had expected. She hadn’t known exactly what she expected, but this was not it. Maybe she thought Eve would be asleep already, having exhausted herself with worries and rage. Or maybe a book would come flying at her head the minute she got in the doorway. But not this. She stood and watched Eve. And Eve remained still.

Slowly, Villanelle put herself, fully-dressed on the bed next to Eve and matched her position, lying her back flat against the mattress and leaving a good chunk of space between the two of them.

The silence dragged on for what felt like hours. Villanelle kept her gaze on the ceiling, her fingers tangling and untangling with each other where they rested on her stomach. Eve must be really mad. Irina was wrong. Eve _is_ angry. She’s so angry she has run out of words.

“You must be wishing you had finished the job when you stuck that knife in me.” Villanelle said quietly at last. Really, she was just thinking aloud, letting the words escape to break up the silence.

Eve rolled towards Villanelle so suddenly it almost made her flinch.

“Don’t you _ever_  say that to me.” Eve hissed, her eyes darted around Villanelle’s shocked face and widened eyes, before she shifted back into her previous position. “I couldn’t… I don’t wish that at all.” She said back to her normal tone of voice.

“Sorry.” Villanelle whispered. She had chosen something to say and she had been wrong again. And God, ‘sorry’, that word. She had spent almost all of her life never saying it, never needing to say it, never knowing what it even meant really, and certainly never feeling it. It took her a long time to even identify the feeling that went along with that innocuous word that carried so much weight. That word that could soothe or destroy. Now she finds herself saying it all the time.

“I’m not angry.” Eve said tiredly.

OK. Villanelle could deal with that. It was a simple explanation of Eve’s feelings, a signpost for Villanelle to follow. Eve is not angry. Irina said as much and she was right after all. She had also said that Eve was scared.

“You are scared.” Villanelle replied. And Eve turned her head to study her curiously, seemingly surprised by Villanelle’s insight.

“Yes.” Eve nodded.

“But not of me?” Irina had said that too.

“No.” Eve let out, “Not of you. Not anymore.”

That was interesting. Villanelle was not used to people not being afraid of her, of trusting her enough to feel safe from her tendencies. It was… nice? So Villanelle nodded. And Eve took a shuddering breath and then spoke.

“I am scared that the Twelve will find a way to take you from me. I am scared that you would rather risk that than take the way out that Konstantin offered. I am scared that you will be bored with me before long. I am scared that I’m not enough.” There it was, all neatly listed and laid out for Villanelle to sift through.

Eve had said it with no emotion at all and Villanelle ached with it. How could she be so bad at showing Eve how she felt? How could Eve possibly think she would tire of her? Grow bored of them?

“I would never.” Villanelle said firmly, only responding to the bit that had punched her hardest.

Eve furrowed her brow and Villanelle moved onto her side and grabbed Eve’s wrist.

“I would never be bored of you.” She tried to convey just how much she meant that sentence through the grip on Eve’s wrist and the intensity in her eyes. Eve let out a hollow, tired, laugh.

“You would rather die than take a—” Eve began.

“No!” Villanelle cut her off, “They wouldn’t catch me.”

“They might!” Eve exclaimed and moved to pull her wrist free. Villanelle released her immediately, but tried to keep Eve captive in her gaze. She took deep breaths, her nostrils flaring and tried to think. Communication is key. Communication is key.

“Irina says I am scared of change.” She said quickly.

“What?”

“Yes. She said I am used to being just me and doing whatever I want and killing people and buying nice things.” She was paraphrasing and she hoped that Eve would understand what she was trying to say. But Eve just continued to look at her blankly. “But now, I like being here with you. I am… happy. And I don’t know… I think that I don’t _enjoy_ the killing people bit so much.” It felt like a betrayal to herself, to her chosen name, to say it out loud. Eve looked surprised.

“I didn’t know that.”

“I still _can_ kill people!” Villanelle exclaimed emphatically, “But it is not so… satisfying?”

“OK…” Eve said slowly.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.” Villanelle said quietly. “I am not good at anything else.”

“You haven’t tried doing anything else,” Eve pointed out. And Villanelle thought that over for a moment.

“I try to be good with you.” She replied, “And I am not.”

Villanelle looked away as she spoke and missed the flash of regret on Eve’s face, but felt it as Eve gently pulled one of hands into her own.

“What happened earlier wasn’t your fault, Oksana.” She said quietly. “Konstantin should not have made a decision like that without consulting you. We should have asked him more yesterday. It is OK to be upset about it.”

“I said horrible things about you.” Villanelle replied.

“Well, yes. Your tone was… hurtful. And the shouting and stamping I could have done without. But I was complicit in Konstantin’s actions.” Eve reasoned. Villanelle said nothing. She knew she would probably always react like that if she were being honest with herself.

“You know,” Eve continued, “I’m not good at this either. I wasn't good at it with Niko. I lied to him all the time. I lied about my work, I lied about you. I even hit him once.”

“You hit him?” Villanelle asked, her expression suddenly gleeful.

“Yes.” Eve eyed her with a hint of amusement. “He told me I was getting off on chasing you. So I hit him.” She said, knowing that she should feel at least a bit of shame over it.

“He was right though.” Villanelle replied, not smugly as Eve might have expected, but thoughtfully.

“I suppose he was.” Eve said, “Sometimes it’s the truthful things that hurt us the most.”

Villanelle hummed at that, thinking.

“You think you do settle for boring things.” She said, finally looking at Eve. “That is why you were upset when I said it earlier.” She concluded, unable to control the relief she felt at finally, finally, understanding something of all this.

“Yes, well,” Eve agreed. “Historically, that is true.”

“Am I boring, Eve?”

Eve laughed suddenly. And Villanelle felt a smile spread across her own lips.

“No, Oksana. You are as far from boring as a person can get.”

“Then it is not true anymore.” Villanelle said decisively, and Eve laughed again.

“Well, then I guess I have changed.” Eve chuckled. And Villanelle looked at her quietly.

She could refuse Konstantin’s offer and then wait for the day that somebody arrived to sever the new life she had made. She could put Eve in danger by staying when the Twelve knew she was not dead. Or… She could keep Eve safe and take Konstantin’s offer. She could protect rather than destruct. That would be a change. But change could be… OK. She had already done it after all; she was in a relationship, she had a home, a real home and someone who gave a shit about what happened to her. Beautiful, kind, funny Eve, who was so smart, who wasn’t angry, but was scared. Scared that she wasn’t enough for Villanelle.

“I will try the job.”

“Oh,” Eve said surprised, “I didn’t mean… You don’t have to. Maybe there is another way.”

“No. I will try it. I want to stay with you.” She said, leaving no room for further discussion.

Eve studied her for a moment, and Villanelle looked back at her imploringly. Eve nodded.

“We can call Carolyn tomorrow and ask for more details.” She said. Villanelle sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly.

“Konstantin can tell the boss men I’m dead.” Villanelle decided, “I will think of a very good way for him to have done it too, they will believe it.” She paused and looked thoughtful, “Would you believe that he could strangle me with his bootlace? Or maybe he would drown me in the bath! He could hold me down if he used all his weight. He is big.” She puffed out her cheeks on the last word and lowered her voice.

“I’m sure the two of you could come up with something truly inspiring.” Eve replied sardonically and Villanelle nodded with pride.

“But Oksana,” Eve spoke again, “Just so you know, you are good at this." she gestured between the two fo them, "Or at least, _nobody_ is good at this. Relationships are hard, everyone has their issues, everyone gets angry sometimes. I mean, most people’s issues don’t involve international intelligence services and death threats from Russia, but, you know…” she trailed off.

“Eve?” Villanelle asked cautiously and Eve looked over at her softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of Villanelle’s hand that was still clutched in her own.

“Yes?” She replied tenderly.

“Can we have make up sex?”


	5. God, That's Gross

Morning light was just beginning to edge its way through the slither of a gap between her heavy bedroom curtains when Eve awoke. She listened to the sounds of the house as consciousness came back to her; the jolt and whir of the boiler switching itself on to release a burst of heat into the radiators, the muted swoosh of a car passing by outside and the soft breathing of the woman next to her sending paced puffs of warm air against the back of her neck.

And that woman was both the reason Eve needed to haul herself from bed and the reason that she was sure there was nowhere else she’d rather be. But this morning, the former won out and Eve gently lifted Villanelle’s arm from around her waist and shuffled towards the edge of the bed. She felt the bare skin of her lower back peel from where it had been in contact with Villanelle’s soft but toned stomach, sticking slightly from where perspiration had dried as they slept. Pyjamas were a thing of the past it seemed.

Who had Eve been to deny Villanelle’s request the night before? She needed just as much reassurance that they were still in this together, still a part of the same life, as Villanelle had. And they had offered up that reassurance for each other enthusiastically – though quietly due to house visitors – for quite a time before succumbing to sleep; plastered together once more.

Eve grabbed her robe from the back of the door and was halfway to putting it on before remembering the large man asleep across the hall and the young girl in the living room. She opted for the pair of Villanelle’s soft sweatpants that had been slung across the back of the chair in the corner of the bedroom. They were pale pink with leopard spots and far too long for Eve, she realised as she rolled up the cuffs. There was a matching top somewhere but it was dark in the room and so Eve opted for the first T-Shirt that came to hand when she pulled open a drawer. The noise of the drawer scraping along its wooden runners roused the other occupant of the room from her slumber.

“What are you doing?” Villanelle mumbled, not bothering to open her eyes, “Come back here.” Her accent was even thicker when her mind was still mostly asleep.

Eve glanced at the bed. Villanelle had her face pushed into Eve’s pillow, and the blankets were pulled up to her shoulders.

“I need to call the office,” Eve whispered, “You can sleep.”

Villanelle’s brow furrowed as though she was going to argue, but then…

“OK.” She breathed, and the lines on her face smoothed out once more. Eve chuckled quietly and left the room, crossing the hall to her office and closing the door behind her.

In an almost exact replica of the morning before, Eve picked up the phone and dialled for Carolyn Martens. Her personal number this time though, not the office. It rang for several long moments.

“Eve?” Came Carolyn’s voice, tired but intrigued.

“I have some questions!” Eve burst out, before remembering that the rest of the house was asleep and putting a hand over her mouth for all the good it would do.

“Is anyone in serious danger?” Carolyn asked now sounding more tired and less intrigued.

“What? No. But this job for Oksana, or, um, Villanelle. What exactly is it? Because, I am so grateful that you’re willing to find something for her despite everything she…” Eve trailed off. It may not be her greatest idea to remind Carolyn again of Villanelle’s past undertakings, though it wasn’t as though anyone could forget them. “I just…” Eve tried again, “I don’t know how she will cope in the office and—”

“Eve.” Carolyn interrupted firmly. “It is… 06.37 in the morning.”

“Oh.” said Eve, and checked the time on her laptop that woke up as she ran a finger across the mouse pad. Carolyn was correct. “Yes. It is.”

“Can we discuss this later? Perhaps when the sun is slightly higher in the sky?” Carolyn asked.

“I guess so,” Eve replied, not really willing to spend another hour or so stewing in uncertainty and feeling guilty for putting Villanelle in a position where she felt she had no other option but to go along with this plan. Carolyn sighed impatiently.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eve! Do you really think I am going to set that woman up in a shared office? Or have her working in human resources? She’s positively dangerous.” Eve cringed a bit at that before Carolyn continued, “Plus, it would be a total waste of her talents.” She muttered, almost as though she was talking to herself.

“Yes!” Eve exclaimed, and then tried to rein in her excitement, “I mean, yes. It would be a waste. She’s multi-lingual, highly intelligent, has insight into crime syndicates and the minds of assassins and—”

There was a rustling noise on the other end of the line and then a low grunt followed by a murmur from Carolyn.

“Eve.” It was Konstantin’s gruff voice. On the phone. On Carolyn Martens’ phone. Eve was shocked into silence.

“It is under control, OK?” Konstantin growled.

Eve shook her head a couple of times.

“Oh. Yeah. Uh… You’ve got this. OK. Bye!” She dropped the phone back into its holder as if it was a dead rat or something equally disgusting.

“Oh, Jesus. Gross! Ack!” She said to herself aloud, and gave a full body shudder.

Words of the letters Kenny had found came rushing back into her head faster than she could bat them away. She quickly shoved herself away from the desk, her wheeled office chair digging a groove into the thin carpet. Sometimes she really wished she had a less curious mind. Right now she really wished she had never Googled ‘Butterfly Beads’. These were not images she needed in her mind at… 06.42 in the morning.

But, Carolyn Martens had no plans to stick Villanelle in an office. Thank. God. And now Eve thought about it, that really would have been an insane manoeuvre on Carolyn’s part. Carolyn had called Villanelle ‘dangerous’ though and that seemed a bit… totally accurate actually. Eve should probably keep in mind that for anyone who wasn’t herself, or Irina, or… not even Konstantin actually, he had taken a bullet from Villanelle. Yeah, to almost everybody else Villanelle remained dangerous. Sure, she may have admitted to perhaps, maybe, possibly not enjoying the killing so much, but she was certainly still capable, still without remorse when it came to that part of her life. A weaponized woman at the water-cooler probably wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. OK, Eve could breathe again.

She was awake now though, so she might as well start her day.

 

An hour or so later, Eve had fired off another email to work telling them she was still not feeling 100% but would be back in tomorrow. She dreaded to think about the state of her office would be in with only her useless co-worker Graham to keep it in order. So Eve busied herself in a vague tidy up of her home office for a while until deciding it was time to venture downstairs for coffee.

Irina was also up but still in her pyjamas and had situated herself at the kitchen table, with a glass of orange juice and yesterday’s paper. Eve hadn’t known many children, but even with her lack of experience of them, she was sure Irina was quite unusual. Eve was just putting the coffee on when Villanelle slunk soundlessly into the room. Unlike Eve, Villanelle had a total disregard for their guests and did not feel the need to cover herself in more than her usual short silk robe. And it didn’t cover a huge amount at all.

She made her way straight over to where Eve was and pushed her softly backwards into the kitchen counter. Leaning her hips against Eve’s own. As she did so, she noticed Eve’s choice of legwear and tucked her fingers into the waistband of her own sweatpants that Eve had slung on.

“Ooh,” Villanelle smirked, tugging on the waistband suggestively, “Suits you.”

Eve flushed and said nothing. She wasn’t quite sure whether Villanelle was being genuinely complimentary or not. Now that Eve examined her hastily chosen outfit in the daylight she felt she looked mildly ridiculous at best. But whatever, it was better than flouncing about in a barely-there robe like a certain somebody else.

“You got up very early, Eve.” Villanelle said in a hushed tone, smoothing the backs of her fingers down Eve’s cheek. “I was not quite finished with you.”

“Oh shush,” Eve laughed, “You were fast asleep.”

“But I had plans for when we woke up.” Villanelle pouted, she leant in and kissed Eve softly. But Eve was more than aware of the young girl seated just a few feet away, and cleared her throat, pulling back.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Eve asked sarcastically.

“Probably because you know me very… very… well.” Villanelle let out slowly, punctuating her words with lengthening pecks to Eve’s lips.

“Um. Hello!” Irina called from her seat at the kitchen table.

“Irina, sorry.” Eve said, pushing Villanelle away and ignoring the frustrated growl the other woman issued.

“That’s OK.” Irina said pleasantly, “Just, you know, gross.”

“You are gross.” Villanelle said, spinning around to glare at Irina who stuck her tongue out at her. Eve went back to pouring two cups of coffee.

“You made up then,” Irina said knowingly to Villanelle, “Aren’t you glad I made you go and deal with your girlfriend?”

Villanelle widened her eyes threateningly at Irina.

“What?” Eve asked, turning around and looking between the two of them.

Just then the front door slammed closed. Irina shot a confused look out into the hallway and Villanelle grabbed a kitchen knife from the cutting board, and leapt to the doorway, her body tensing immediately as though it was spring loaded. Eve swallowed uncomfortably.

“Good morning everybody!” Konstantin boomed happily as he strode into the kitchen, pushing past Villanelle.

“Papa!” Irina said in surprise. “Where have you been? I thought you were upstairs.”

Villanelle narrowed her eyes at Konstantin, body relaxed again but absently caressing the knife handle in her hand. Eve turned away and made herself busy with an unnecessary task of rearranging items on the kitchen counter.

“I was. Then I went to buy breakfast,” Konstantin explained and then held up a shopping bag as if presenting evidence. “Sausage?” he offered.

At the counter Eve broke out into a coughing fit. Villanelle dropped her knife back where she found it and poured a glass of water for Eve who gulped it gratefully while Villanelle rubbed her back. Konstantin watched with raised eyebrows.

“Is everything alright, Eve?” He asked, looking Eve dead in the eye once she had regained control of her breathing.

“Yes.” Eve croaked.

“Good.” Konstantin nodded, then he turned to Villanelle. “You,” he looked at her pointedly, “After breakfast we will have a little talk, yes?”

“Uh oh,” Villanelle said in a low mocking voice to Irina, “Your dad is going to tell me I am very naughty.”

Irina shrugged at her with one shoulder, making a face as if to say that it would serve Villanelle right.

“Whatever.” Villanelle grumbled.

 

After a breakfast, Villanelle attempted to hop up swiftly from the table and take the dishes to the sink but Konstantin knew better than to think she was purely trying to be helpful.

“A-ah!” he reprimanded at her, “You sit.”

Villanelle rolled her eyes but let her body drop heavily back into her seat again.

“Good.” Konstantin said, “Irina, go and get dressed. We are going to the Natural History Museum today.” He stumbled slightly over the pronunciation of their destination.

Irina leapt up and disappeared from the room, throwing an overly-enthusiastic and possibly teasing thumbs up at Villanelle as she left. Villanelle shook her head scathingly at Irina’s retreating back.

“I’m uh…” Eve started, as she stood awkwardly from the table and began to edge towards the door, “I’m just going to… go upstairs.”

“You can stay!” Villanelle called at the same time as Konstantin issued a gruff, “OK.”

Eve darted into the hall and shut the door behind her. Villanelle slouched down in her seat.

“Villanelle,” Konstantin started.

“I know, I know. I was rude to Eve and ungrateful to you and I should not have shouted and dah, dah, dah.” She said monotonously. Konstantin snorted.

“No.” he said, “I do not care about that.”

“Oh really?” Villanelle asked, sitting up straighter.

“Really.” he nodded. “I have talked to Carolyn again about this job.”

Villanelle considered him carefully for a moment and then issued a hoot of laughter, she threw her head back and clasped her hands together.

“You did not just go shopping!” She exclaimed triumphantly.

“Villanelle,” Konstantin warned lowly.

“Did you _fuck_  her?” Villanelle asked her eyes sparkling with mirth. Konstantin glanced away momentarily, which was enough of a tell for Villanelle.

“Oh, you did!” she decided delightedly. Konstantin lifted both his hands in defeat.

“Was it good?” Villanelle asked with genuine curiosity.

“Villanelle!” Konstantin barked.

“What? I am happy for you. Your wife is very big…”

Konstantin ignored her and continued as though Villanelle hadn’t diverted the conversation at all.

“You will not be in the office.” he said, “You will be a kind of… consultant. You will go to crime scenes of interest or you will be sent photos and you will—”

“What kind of crime scenes?”

“Murders.” Konstantin sighed. Villanelle smiled and nodded.

“You will be useful to them because of your languages, you can be international, you are discrete,” Konstantin added, “And because you can identify the work of assassins and you understand—”

“Do I get paid a lot?” she asked as though she hadn’t been listening at all.

“They will pay you generously.”

“Cash?”

“I don’t know.”

Villanelle appeared to consider this for all of two seconds before speaking again.

“OK.” She agreed with finality and went to stand up from the table.

“Sit.” Konstantin ordered again and Villanelle sighed, but remained in her seat.

“The Twelve will think you are dead, I will make sure of it. They will not suspect that you work for British Intelligence because… because they think British Intelligence already thinks that you are dead.” Konstantin explained slowly as though trying to keep track of the deceit himself as he spoke. “And soon there will be no more Twelve anyway.”

“OK…” Villanelle repeated, clearly following Konstantin’s words this time, but waiting for more. Konstantin cleared his throat and shifted himself towards the edge of his chair.

“Carolyn said that sometimes…” He began quietly and Villanelle leaned forward, definitely listening now, “Now and then… You might be able to do your old job again.” He muttered. “For them.”

Villanelle raised her eyebrows, turned her lips down at the corners, and nodded her head approvingly.

“Interesting.” She said.

“Do not tell Eve that bit.” Konstantin said quickly. Villanelle reflected on that order for a moment.

“I might tell Eve that bit.” She whispered exaggeratedly. Konstantin sighed.

“Tomorrow you go to see Carolyn at the headquarters, OK?” He asked, leaning back and his voice returning to a normal volume. Villanelle nodded again.

“No more postcards?” she asked quietly.

“No more postcards.”

 

The remainder of the day passed as normally as it could, as far as Eve was concerned. It had been years since she’d visited the Natural History Museum but not a massive amount had changed.

Villanelle seemed particularly enamoured with the rooms that were home to stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes. They were clearly old specimens, treated to the kind of taxidermy that no longer took place. They were moth-eaten and it was hard to believe they had ever held a spark of life within their now dense, dusty bodies. Villanelle assessed them one by one, taking particular time and interest in the wiry form of a wild rabbit that seemed somewhat under-stuffed. Eve found the whole thing creepy but she was patient and kept by Villanelle’s side, holding onto her comforting hand and trying not to feel as though every creature’s vacant glassy eye was upon her. Irina had whizzed around this part of the museum and then gone in search of the astronomy section, with Konstantin lumbering disinterested behind and periodically checking the phone that he had stashed somewhere in his huge black coat.

Eve was feeling exhausted by the time they headed back to the house, ready for Konstantin and Irina to collect their belongings and call a cab to take them to Heathrow. On a regular day, keeping up with Villanelle took enough of Eve’s energy, but after a couple of days with the ever-curious Irina and the presence of Konstantin, who still put her permanently on edge, she was ready to collapse into the sofa cushions and not move for six to eight weeks. The emotional turmoil, intense sex and lack of sleep probably hadn’t added helped matters either.

Finally the four of them were back where they started, on the doorstep to Eve’s house. Both Irina and Konstantin with packed suitcases, and a taxi waiting at the gate. Villanelle stepped into Konstantin’s outstretched arms and squeezed him tightly.

“Make my death a good one, OK?” She asked seriously.

“Of course.” Konstantin replied, patting her on the back.

“And say hello to your wife from me,” Villanelle whispered, loud enough for both Eve and Irina to hear as they too exchanged a quick hug.

Eve had bent awkwardly to be at the right level for Irina and ended up bumping her chin on the top of the child’s surprisingly hard head. She rubbed it surreptitiously as she stood up once more.

Villanelle was now back at Eve’s side on the step and Irina flew at her, wrapping her arms tightly around Villanelle’s waist and knocking the wind out of her to the point that Eve heard a soft ‘oof’ emanate from the other woman. Villanelle’s arms waved uselessly at her sides for a moment or two before she secured them around Irina’s shoulders. Villanelle’s eyes closed and there was a contented smile on her face that Eve felt she probably wasn’t even aware of.

Konstantin cleared his throat and stuck his hand out for Eve to shake. She looked at him cautiously, clearly for a moment too long.

“It is hygienic this time. But you can still shake my wrist if you prefer.” He said, a sly smile on his face.

Eve let out an uncomfortable laugh, far louder than she had expected it to be, and Konstantin immediately followed suit. The both of them were still laughing unnecessarily loudly when Eve finally shook his hand, feeling her whole arm move in response to his vigorous handshake.

Villanelle took stock of herself and struggled out of Irina’s arms, raising an eyebrow at Eve and Konstantin, whose laughter was now finally subsiding into half-hearted chuckles.

“Riiiight,” Villanelle drawled, taking hold of Eve’s shoulders and walking them both backwards into the hallway, “Well, this has been… Great.” Villanelle said, reaching for the door as Eve nodded emphatically at her side.

“So lovely.” Eve reiterated as Konstantin turned to stalk down the path to the waiting taxi and Irina waved manically. “Have a safe flight,” Eve called.

“Yes.” Agreed Villanelle, “And you should… Come for Christmas!” she shouted as she pulled Eve fully inside the front door and closed it firmly behind them.

“Jesus, Oksana!” Eve exclaimed, turning to face her, mouth agape.

“What?” Villanelle asked baffled.

“They should come for Christmas??” Eve repeated, wide-eyed.

“It is just an expression.” Villanelle shrugged and headed into the living room.

“No, it’s not!” Eve called despairingly after her, but Villanelle had vanished from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have reached the end of this one folks! The thing about writing a story with little actual plot, is it's hard to figure out where it ends. This one has told me that it ends here. The very first scene I wrote for this story isn't actually in it though, so you may find yourselves with a bonus chapter if and when I write the rest of it, but for now... thanks for reading and for sending me your thoughts and demands, they're always a treat to receive.
> 
> Oh, and there was a sneaky little nod to a something that was mentioned in one of the earlier parts of this series, Popcorn. If you spotted it, then I will give you a virtual fist bump. Or a virtual pat on the bum. Your choice.


	6. Holy Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I told you there might be a bonus chapter, and here it is. It may seem entirely unnecessary to the rest of the story, but here's the thing, the scene with Elena and Eve is actually what I wrote before the rest of it. The whole Villanelle Gets a Job thing was basically just a ploy to give Eve her friends back. I mean, she was never going to come clean about the assassin in her bed unless she absolutely had to...

It was Wednesday morning by the time Eve returned to work after the surprise visitors and the chaos of the weekend and subsequent days. She kept having to remind herself that she had phoned in sick and she had decided it was imperative to issue at least a few snuffles around the place to make her absence a convincing one. As it happened, nobody about the place particularly noticed her elaborate search for a tissue in her handbag as she exited the lift and shuffled past the rows of desks en route to her office. And Graham, her charisma-less co-worker and office mate looked up in surprise as she entered the room, then glanced at her desk as though he thought she had already been in. It felt good to be so valued, Eve thought dejectedly.

“Good morning, Graham.” Eve offered politely.

“Morning.” Graham grunted in response.

He had never had a huge amount to say to her, which was fine really, Eve could do without colleague chit-chat with Graham. But she did wonder whether their lack of communication was because of his general social awkwardness, or because he, like everyone else, was aware that she had been relocated to this tucked-away office because she had gone rogue in her previous position and stabbed a woman to death in Paris.

Eve sat down and powered up her computer. There was, unsurprisingly, a vast amount of emails for her to work through. Despite convincing her supervisor that she would be ‘working from home’ whilst off sick, she of course hadn’t had time to even think about following through on that promise. Not with Konstantin and Irina around, and Villanelle’s temper tantrum.

She shifted uneasily in her seat and glanced at the clock on the wall. At 10am that morning Villanelle would be making her debut appearance in Carolyn Martens’ office for the thorough breakdown of her new job. Eve knew that these office visits for Villanelle would be a rarity; both Konstantin and Carolyn had assured her of that multiple times now. But still, the image of Villanelle – either the Villanelle that wouldn’t bat an eye at brutally butchering an innocent intern, or her own Villanelle, the protective, thoughtful, affectionate woman who shared her home – striding down the corridors of MI6 seemed frankly absurd. And yet, in just under half an hour, that exact scenario would be occurring. The butterflies in Eve’s stomach were more like fully grown fluttering bats at this point.

Villanelle, on the other hand, had no qualms in telling Eve that she didn’t feel nervous. No, she wasn’t nervous at all…

Eve had awoken first that morning, which was not unusual. She listened to the silence of the house and felt relieved all over again that it was once again inhabited by only the two of them. Then she had rolled over and looked at Villanelle. In sleep the other woman looked as young as Eve often forgot she was. More than twenty years younger than herself. There had always been so many other issues to contend with in their highly unconventional relationship that the age difference wasn’t even a blip on the radar of potential taboos. Experience had aged Villanelle, whilst inexperience kept her young. She was a conundrum, Eve was sure of that.

Villanelle had been lying on her back, her arms above her head and a serene expression on her face that could only be found there when consciousness could not. Eve pulled herself up to rest on her elbow and studied Villanelle’s face. Her relaxed lips, almost smiling. Her smooth skin, blemishless as always, with a smattering of freckles to her right cheekbone. The barest hint of a flicker behind her eyelids as though she may be dreaming. Eve ghosted her fingertips across Villanelle’s cheek and leant in to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. When she pulled back she was greeted with those catlike eyes, more gold than green this morning.

“Mmmm morning,” Villanelle sighed, she didn’t move from her spot except to bring one arm down to rest a hand on Eve’s shoulder as her eyes roamed the older woman’s face.

“Good morning, darling.” Eve replied and leant closer, silently requesting another slow kiss, a request to which Villanelle happily obliged.

“You do not normally wake me up like this.” Villanelle mumbled, barely pulling back, her lips moving against Eve’s as she spoke.

“Well, this morning is different. You’re going into the office too.” Eve reminded her. Villanelle pulled back and shuffled herself into a sitting position against the pillows.

“Oh yes.” She said quietly. Eve followed suit and sat herself upright next to Villanelle, taking her hand and running her thumb over it gently.

“Is everything alright?” Eve asked, leaning forward to look into Villanelle’s now clouded expression.

“Of course.” Villanelle answered, clouds clearing immediately.

“It’s OK to be nervous, you know? “ Eve ventured.

“I am not nervous.” Villanelle said stubbornly. “Nervous of what? Carolyn Martens?” She asked incredulously. “Silly baby.” She lifted Eve’s hand to her lips and kissed her fingers.

“No,” Eve dragged out, “Of making this change.”

“I am not nervous.” Villanelle said decisively and swung her legs out of bed to stand. “I think I will take a run this morning.”

Eve was not convinced, but she decided to let it go. Villanelle’s evident nerves were clearly not up for discussion. Eve remained in the middle of the now empty bed and watched as Villanelle hastily got into her gym gear.

“OK, well I’ll be gone when you get back. So… see you tonight?” Eve asked.

Villanelle secured her hair into a ponytail and leant across the bed to give Eve a kiss.

“See you later, baby.”

 

And so, Eve had got a head start this morning, arriving at the office at her usual time. Herself and Villanelle could in theory show up together without raising eyebrows or mass panic. Thankfully, aside from Carolyn, herself, Elena and Kenny, no one else here knew what Villanelle looked like. Or if they had, then they hadn’t lived to tell the tale. Nobody would know when a stunningly beautiful woman appeared in the lobby of MI6 headquarters later in the morning, that the very same stunningly beautiful woman had castrated a high-ranking member of personnel. Eve reminded herself of that for the hundredth time this morning. They were safe. Their secret was safe. Villanelle was a master of disguise, and besides she wasn’t here to speak to anyone but Carolyn. Kenny didn’t work on site and Elena was highly unlikely to actually see—

The door to the office swung open on its hinges and crashed into the wall beside it with a crunch, a puff of plaster dust emanating in its wake. Elena took a decisive step into the room. She ignored Eve entirely and looked at Graham who stared back at her, his hand frozen halfway to putting a Malteaser into his open mouth.

“Hi! Graham, is it?” Elena asked sweetly with a smile.

“Uh huh…” Graham started. He had never met this woman before, how did she know his name?

“Good. Get out Graham,” Elena spoke again, this time the smile had dropped from her face.

Graham nodded and heaved his body from his desk chair, snatching the bag of Malteasers from his desk and hurrying towards the door that Elena held open for him.

“Much appreciated,” Elena said, sickly smile back in place. She slammed the door when Graham had barely made his way through it and rounded on Eve, her face stony.

“What the _actual_ fuck, Eve?” She demanded.

“Elena, I—” Eve started.

“No, Eve.” Elena cut her off, “No, you listen for a minute. I had a call from Kenny on Monday.”

Eve’s heart plunged into a swirling abyss. Kenny. He had been at Carolyn’s when herself and Konstantin had gone there. In the midst of everything that had happened since, Eve had totally forgotten that Kenny of course would have shared that little anecdote with Elena, his girlfriend. She had meant to call Kenny, meant to explain everything. Or at least _try_ to explain everything. But she just… hadn’t.

Elena clearly took note of the dismayed look on Eve’s face.

“Yeah,” Elena nodded, “That’s right. And he happened to tell me that his mum had some visitors. That you had gone round there, with some massive Russian bloke, and asked Carolyn to give Villanelle a job.”

Eve dropped her head, unable to meet Elena’s hurt and confused gaze.

“Now,” Elena said, “Correct me if I’m wrong here, Eve. But I think Villanelle is quite an unusual name, isn’t it? In fact, I’d go so far as to say that it’s not really a name at all. It’s the kind of title that an egotistical psychopath might assign herself. And, could it be that that egotistical psychopath who spent months playing fucking mind games with us, who _stabbed and killed_ Bill, who you supposedly murdered in self-defence in an apartment in Paris… Could that be the same woman you just secured a job for?” Elena stared at Eve with wide, disbelieving eyes, imploring Eve to tell her she was wrong.

“It could.” Eve agreed quietly. Elena noticeably tensed.

“Then I’ll return to my original question and ask you again, what the _actual_ fuck, Eve?”

“She’s…” Eve started.

“She’s what? Killed more times than I’ve had waxes? Unhinged beyond belief? A total fucking lunatic?” Elena prompted, her voice steadily rising in both volume and pitch.

“No!” Eve let out. “She’s not a lunatic.” She said defiantly.

“Well, she’s not fucking normal, Eve!” Elena exclaimed. “Maybe you’ve lost your mind as well.” She suggested.

Eve sighed, her shoulders sagging. How was she meant to explain all of this?

“No,” Eve agreed with an empty laugh, shaking her head, “She’s certainly not normal.”

Elena waited for her to continue. Eve took a deep, steadying breath.

“I didn’t kill her in Paris.” Eve stated.

“Yeah. No shit, babe.” Elena laughed, but she was clearly not amused.

“I thought I had,” Eve explained, “Well, I didn’t know that I _hadn’t_. And then Niko left and there was weeks where everything was just so… empty. I had nothing to focus on anymore. Before that she had consumed everything about me, I thought about her all the time, and then she was just gone. Except, I still thought about her all the time.” Eve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I know what she did to Bill,” her voice broke a bit and she swallowed, “Trust me, I know it better than anyone and I still don’t know what to do with that… But there was something… there always has been something that just… pulls me into her.” Eve chanced a look up at Elena.

Elena was perched on the edge of Graham’s desk, her long legs crossed at the ankles, her face was unreadable but she was still listening. And Eve found that it was good to say these things aloud. She had always had to keep them in, storing them inside herself and trying to ignore the sheer weight of them, the extra energy it took to carry them around with her wherever she goes.

“And then one night, she was just back. She was at the door. And we had dinner and we watched a movie and—”

“Hold up.” Elena cut in, holding up a single finger, “A psychotic contract killer rings the doorbell one night and you just… Invite her in for dinner and a movie?” Elena asks.

“Well, I didn’t _invite_ her in. And I thought about calling the police. And Oksana offered me a knife if I wanted it.” Eve reasoned. “But she may have been joking.” She realised in hindsight.

Elena’s eyes were bulging and she stuck her neck out in silent incredulity for a moment, before regaining her previous posture and gesturing with her hands for Eve to continue.

“That’s it really,” Eve shrugged, “She just stayed from then on. And suddenly things weren’t empty anymore, they were full, and I felt… Well, scared sometimes to begin with, but then I felt better. Better than I have felt for… God, for _years_. Everything just shifted and we became… Elena, I can’t explain it, she just… she brings me back to life.” Eve finally looked Elena in the eye and begged her silently to just try to understand.

“Jesus Christ,” Elena hissed, “You’re full on in love with her, aren’t you?”

“I think I have been for quite a while.” Eve admitted.

“Oh babe, you’re in trouble.” Elena shook her head and chuckled. Eve felt a burst of relief at that chuckle, and she smiled uncertainly at Elena.

“Yeah, I am.” Eve nodded.

“She killed Bill.” Elena’s brief smile dropped and took Eve’s with it.

“I know.” Eve uttered brokenly. The pain must have been so blatant in her voice that Elena took pity on her. Perhaps that was a conversation for another day.

“For the record,” Elena began, “I think you’re fucking nuts.”

Eve let out a bark of laughter, throwing her head back, and then groaned in amusement and defeat. Elena had such a way with words, such a talent for stripping back the bullshit and laying it all on the line.

“For the record,” Eve replied, “I think you might be right.”

“Alright, so we can agree on that then.” Elena smiled. “But you know I’m still going to take some more convincing, right?”

Elena stood from Graham’s desk and moved herself onto Eve’s instead, pulling Eve out of her chair and into a full body hug.

“I can’t believe your secret sex pet was Villanelle the whole fucking time.” She muttered into Eve’s hair. Eve laughed against Elena and relaxed into the hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Eve whispered.

Elena pulled back and looked Eve in the eye.

“Give me all the gory details and you’ll be forgiven.” She said with a reassuring smile, and then faltered, “That probably wasn’t a good choice of words.”

Eve rolled her eyes as she began to answer when the office door swung open for the second time. This time the door didn’t hit the wall, and this time the new occupant to the room didn’t charge in with fiery eyes, but strutted in with determined confidence.

Villanelle was wearing a perfectly tailored royal blue suit that showed off her figure expertly, she had on a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and black heels to match the black leather briefcase she held at her side. Her hair was up, her make-up subtle and natural but for the shock of red lipstick. Eve was used to Villanelle at home, always fashionable and expensively dressed but normally erring on the side of comfort. Plus, she tended not to be in heels at home. Eve had forgotten that with the added height heels gave to her already deceptively tall frame, Villanelle could cut quite an imposing figure.

“Holy fuck.” Elena gasped.

Villanelle fixed her with a stony stare.

“You are not Graham.” Villanelle said icily, with a raised eyebrow at the closeness between Eve and Elena, and then her gaze dropped to where Elena’s hand still rested on Eve’s arm. Elena noticed and pulled her hand back as though Eve had issued her with an electric shock.

Elena looked to Eve pleadingly.

“Oksana, this is Elena.” Eve said, straightening up and stepping over to where Villanelle remained motionless, “My friend.” She said firmly. Villanelle looked at Eve for a moment and nodded.

“Pleasure to meet you, Elena.” Villanelle said, striding towards the desk where Elena tried and failed to shuffle backwards. Villanelle stuck her hand out towards Elena, who stared at it for a couple of seconds before taking it hesitantly. Villanelle shook her hand resolutely and then returned her attention to Eve.

“The man at the front desk told me where to find you. He was very eager to help.” Villanelle said matter-of-factly.

“I bet he was.” Eve mumbled, running her finger down the edge of Villanelle’s suit jacket. Villanelle followed the finger with her gaze and then looked at Eve’s face, baffled for a moment before her expression cleared.

“Oh yes?” She asked, smiling smugly, “Do you like the suit, Eve?”

Eve cleared her throat and ignored the question.

“Ready for your meeting with Carolyn?” She asked instead and Villanelle shrugged disinterestedly. To Elena she probably seemed perfectly calm but to Eve, who was slowly becoming versed in all things Villanelle, there was a ghost of uncertainty in those usually steady eyes.

“Of course.” Villanelle replied and then glanced around the room questioningly, “What is the smell in here?” she asked.

“Graham” said both Eve and Elena at the same time. Villanelle looked disgusted and then thrust her hand in the air to shift her sleeve down and reveal a shiny wristwatch that Eve had never seen before.

“I must go now.” Villanelle declared after consulting the watch. She pulled Eve towards her and Eve was forced onto her tiptoes as Villanelle ducked to meet her lips in a slightly more passionate kiss than Eve had been expecting. It lasted for a couple of moments before Villanelle nipped once at Eve’s upper lip and pulled back.

“Good luck, darling.” Eve said softly, forgetting that Elena was behind her, as she removed a smudge of dislodged lipstick from Villanelle’s lips with her thumb.

“I look good?” Villanelle asked, standing back so Eve could take all of her in. Villanelle knew she looked good, but she wanted to be sure that Eve knew it too.

“Really good!” Elena let out from where she remained at Eve’s desk. Villanelle smirked and Eve glanced questioningly over her shoulder at Elena.

“Well she does.” Elena murmured defensively.

“You look perfect, Oksana.” Eve confirmed, smiling warmly at her and then furrowing her brow, “What have you got in the briefcase?” She asked nervously.

Villanelle lifted it in surprise as though she had forgotten she had it with her. She laughed.

“Oh Eve, don’t look so worried.” Villanelle said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Eve’s ear. “There is nothing in it. It just goes with these shoes.” She explained as though it was obvious.

“Oh, OK.” Eve replied, “So, I’ll see you at home? You can tell me how you got on.”

“See you at home.” Villanelle confirmed and then leant down for a final peck to Eve’s lips before heading to the door and throwing a wink over her shoulder as she went.

“Bye Villanelle!” Elena shouted.

The door clicked shut behind Villanelle and Eve turned to look at Elena enquiringly.

“What?” Elena asked affronted, slipping down from her spot on the desk.

“What happened to, ‘You know, Eve, I am going to take some convincing’?” Eve demanded in mild outrage.

“I’m convinced, babe. I get it.” Elena said nonchalantly. “She’s fucking hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thanks again for all your comments throughout this story :)


End file.
